The Snake Charmer
by badgrrldiy
Summary: Hermione Granger travels to the past to learn the Dark Lord's secrets. During her stay, she finds herself in a precarious situation. Will she return to the world she left behind? Or will her stay with Tom Riddle alter her future forever? (Rated M for future content)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I am not JK Rowling. All rights go to those affiliated. I am merely a fan.

**Author's Note**: Please be aware that there will be a bit of disregard here and there for the sake of the story. I will do my best to make it clear why certain ideas have been thrown out as they changes appear (unless it's vital for the plot that I don't). As of right now, I don't see any _major_ changes, though, so I don't believe there should be worry of that. Please enjoy!

* * *

_The Snake Charmer_

DKM

"No matter how far you have gone down the wrong road, turn back."

-Turkish Proverb

* * *

**Prologue**

"Take time to consider what you're agreeing to, Miss. Granger," Professor Snape advised, his voice guarded and calm as he stood by the window. His eyes were fixed on something beyond the school grounds, and the young witch got the feeling he was avoiding looking at her in attempt to guard himself. "He may not be the Dark Lord you know of today, but he will still be powerful beyond his years. He would have already begun his transition into immortality. He will be the Dark Lord, despite his outer charm and allure."

He remained silent for a while, allowing her to soak in his words before turning towards her. Finding the determination he'd become accustomed to full in her eyes, he sat on the accent bench. The cushioning was uncomfortable, but went unnoticed by him, as the whole of the office was uncomfortable to him. "He won't care for another simpering, belle of a follower, but you mustn't make yourself into a threat, either."

At his pause, Dumbledore spoke up quietly, "I do believe we should trust her judgment, Severus. Hermione isn't the smartest witch of her age for no reason." He took the icy look the Potions Master gave him in stride. "She is aware of what she is agreeing to. We've spent the whole summer going over the case."

"The only reason Miss. Granger is aware of the lair she is walking into is because of the training she's had with myself. This is my last attempt to not sacrifice another innocent, Albus," Snape's voice rose slightly.

"Please, give us a little credit, Severus. We have been with you every step, after all. Not to mention the fact that we already know-," the headmaster was cut off by Hermione, who'd cleared her throat carefully.

"With all due respect, sir, I believe that Professor Snape's final guidance would be smarter. I hold you and Professor McGonagall's opinions and teachings in high regard, but he has been by the Dark Lord's side. If anyone can help me get through this, it's him," she smiled timidly at her professor, who watched her carefully.

The headmaster studied the pair before rising from the desk and nodding at them both, "Of course, Miss. Granger. I wish you strength and success in your mission, and I will see you when you when you return," he bowed out, silently disapparting.

Snape sighed, and gave Hermione an uncharacteristic look of humor, as he seemed to deflate before her eyes. It was an action she had become accustomed to, having spent nearly six hours a day with him all summer. "He has always been one for dramatics," he announced, clearing his face of emotion before continuing.

"I do trust your judgment, Miss. Granger. You've proven yourself thoroughly throughout not only your time here at Hogwarts but during our sessions as well. I am, simply put, worried for you. I'm not sure what you will come to mean to the Dark Lord. It's all very unclear." He spoke unguardedly.

She accepted his words as she would her parents'. Having grown to consider him two separate people, Severus and her Professor, her respect for him changed swiftly from that of someone you may not like very much to someone you turned to for comfort. Though she'd never admit that to him. For some reason, although he'd deemed her worthy enough to see another side of him, she felt he wouldn't be too keen on allowing her to speak of the difference with candor. The man she'd known that summer was borderline caring and charismatic, although still thoroughly severe in his lectures on the Dark Lord and his Knights.

She noticed him studying her, and blushed. "Professor, may I ask something about…what I'm about to do?"

"Proceed."

"Well, I'm curious about the success of my actions. I understand the theory behind it, that anything I may do during my time in the past has already been done therefore will not impact the timeline, but it all seems so pointless. Was I unsuccessful? Am I in danger of him realizing who I am? Does it even matter for me to go back to his final year of Hogwarts?"

He remained silent for a second too long, leaving her feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable. She didn't fidget or show sign of being uncomfortable under his gaze, which pleased him. It wouldn't do to show distress in front of the Dark Lord, even if he would still be Tom Riddle. "As I said, it's all very unclear. However, it's important that you do this. Whatever you did, you impacted him enough to have him just as interested in getting you as he is Potter. He is even, seemingly, emotionally invested, as troublesome as that may be. When you return, you will know him more intimately than you do now, and hopefully more so than anyone, ever. If you are successful, you will know what it takes to win this war. Albus may believe that Harry is the only one to be able to end it, but Miss. Granger, what is that Muggle saying? Ah, yes, _it takes a village_. He wouldn't have survived first, or any, year if not for you."

"You, too, Professor," she said quickly, needing no time to soak in his words. Hermione had the ability to process thoughts as quickly as she heard them, resulting in little to no time needed to consider her reply. "Actually, you're more important than any of us. We wouldn't be-," she seemed to realize that he wouldn't care for her words of encouragement. "Thank you."

He smirked. "Do you have any other worries?"

"I won't be myself if I return, will I?" Her eyes widened with uncharacteristic innocence, and he realized that despite still being a Hogwarts student, the person before him was a young woman. It was a difficult realization, despite the fact that he'd known she was a legal witch for over a year now.

"You won't be the person you are right now. You will have to dabble, Miss. Granger," he didn't have to say 'in the dark arts' for her to understand, "maybe even embrace and kill. It doesn't make you a worse person. Remember that it's not the journey, but the destination. All is fair in love and war."

She bit her lip and asked, "What if I'm not as strong as I think I am?"

"You won't be alone when you return. You have your friends, Miss Granger. And I will be here to help you as well. I will understand," his eyes softened in sincerity.

"Thank you, Professor. Truly. I feel better knowing that you have helped me."

He kneeled before her, and took one of her hands. "You will be successful, Miss. Granger. You needn't worry about being seduced by the dark arts, being killed, or discovered. Dumbledore knows that you return, he would not allow you to go if he didn't." He stood up keeping her hand in his, "I believe, Hermione, that you are more prepared than you think. You know your story; you know what you're walking into. Trust yourself."

She got the feeling that he was leaving something very vital out, but decided not to comment on it as he pulled her up. He prepared her the way be believed he though would be beneficial; she wouldn't question what he was withholding.

Instead, she said, "I'm afraid that once I understand him, I won't hate him anymore."

He actually smiled, slipping her shrunken belongings into her left pocket and the letter to Dumbledore in her right. Reaching for the specially programmed time turner around her neck, he began to turn it. When she felt the sensation she would never grow accustomed to, (it was like having an itch she couldn't scratch all over her body, from the inside out,) she heard him speak. His voice sounded years away, and she supposed he was as she faded from Gryffindor's office.

"You _will_ hate him, my lady; you will simply no longer fear him."


	2. Target

**Disclaimer: **I'm not JK Rowling, just a fan.

**Warning: **There is a very small amount of violence towards the end.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Hermione Granger arrived in 1944 nearly silently. Her only fault was that she stumbled, reaching out to balance herself on the chair in front of her. It was identical to the one she'd risen from moments ago. Glancing at the clock, she realized she was one minute and thirty seconds early, and patted her neck to see if the time turner had truly turned to water to prevent future usage. She found her neckline moist and shirt wet, dyed purple in some places as evidence of it once being there. Smiling at Snape and Dumbledore's combined genius, she resisted charming her clothes proper and sat down in the chair to wait for the latter man's arrival.

After a few minutes, he stepped into the office, a curious expression filling his younger face at her quiet presence. She smiled kindly at him, offering her hand, which he kissed politely. "Good evening, Professor. I hope that your holiday went well this year," she said as she handed him the letter. She watched as his eyes widened slightly at seeing his name in his own handwriting, and found herself blushing at the look of awe he was giving her.

"Are you from another time, my dear?"

She nodded to the envelope; "I believe it best to read the offering, professor. You may ask anything you like afterwards." Hermione returned to her seat and refolded her hands over her lap, settling in as he sat behind his desk and carefully opened the note; she knew that the future Dumbledore had written quiet a bit to himself.

After ten minutes of reading and five more of silence, he leaned toward her, pushing an assortment of candies in a small dish forward. "The lemon drops are my favorite, but choose any that you like." She did, picking at random and surprising herself at the raspberry flavoring of the sweet before smiling and bowing her head in thanks. "I am supposed to determine a name for you, but I can't say that is such a wise decision. You may choose your own, but might I suggest something you won't find yourself forgetting? Perhaps a middle name, or something as such."

Hermione thought briefly, listing off the pet names her family had giving her. "Might I keep my surname, sir?"

"Of course, dear."

"Mimi Medusa Medora Granger. My parents always called me Mimi," she finished solemnly, before smiling darkly, "And I like all the M's, considering which family I'm to be a part of."

He smiled gently, having already read that her parents had died under the hand of the Dark Lord. "Lovely," he said quietly, before studying her for a few more minutes. She remained calm and collected under his gaze, and he found himself impressed by her. Finally he spoke, "Medusa Medora," he mused. _Cunning ruler_. It was what she would become, if she were to succeed. He found that it seemed to fit, even if her eyes were a little too bright and face a little too open.

"Massimo was a very good man, and stood by me even through quite troubling times in my life. I must think a lot of you to allow you use of his family name." He shifted through some of the other papers that came with his letter before shrinking the forged transcripts and slipping them into his robe pocket. "You do look a bit like he and his wife," he mumbled, seemingly to himself.

"I will introduce you to the headmaster, as instructed, and we'll see about getting you sorted. Then, we'll see about your quarters. I'd like for you to know that regardless of whatever house you are sorted into, you will always be welcome in my office. I am here for your guidance and support. If you are an need of anything, my door will always be open to you, my dear…goddaughter."

She smiled as his obvious attempt at tasting the word on his tongue. "Thank you, Uncle Dumbledore. I will be taking you up on the offer."

"You may, when appropriate, call me Albus." He quieted, the cheery look leaving his eyes as he fell into a thought. Finally, he announced, "Tom Riddle is a very troubled boy, Miss Granger. He is, I suspect, already on the road to becoming a dark wizard. I must caution you to him, and implore that you come to me if there is ever an emergency. I know you are aware of what he becomes, and have been warned against any of his charms, but you haven't any idea about who he really is right now. I would say it is in your best interest to complete your task with as little intimacy as possible. I know you are your own, strong person; but, he doesn't let go of what he deems his."

"Thank you for the advice, sir."

He rose from his seat and moved around the desk, gesturing for her to follow him with a twinkle in his eye. "Now, let's see to it, Mimi. I'm sure you're exhausted. But first," he waved his wand to clean her of the dye and transfigure her clothes into appropriate Beauxbatons attire, as per her cover story.

As they walked through the castle, Hermione found herself charmed at how it was still the same. It was unnervingly warm though, and she listened as the Professor explained that everyone in the castle had grown accustomed to the stuffiness. The school wouldn't officially open for another six days, which means the heavy cooling charm wouldn't be applied until then. They reached the office and were greeted warmly, if a little oddly, by Headmaster Dippet.

He eyed Hermione with curiosity as she seated herself primly on the edge of her chair, holding herself as though she were Fleur Delacour, nose slightly in the air. He and Dumbledore chatted politely, Dippet asking how his time in France had gone. This, of course, had been Hermione's in. In truth, he had been looking for Grindelwald during his stay, but now he would inform the headmaster that he'd gone to collect his goddaughter.

At this, Dippet happily exclaimed, "A goddaughter!" He chuckled as his own brashness, "And such a lovely one, at that, Albus. Might I ask who your intended is?"

Having spent many holidays in France during her childhood, Hermione was able to accent her words with a gentle one as she spoke, "As he is dead, I don't believe that his name i_z_ of importance, Monsieur Dippet." Conscious of dropping the T on his name, she gave him a terse smile, both in stereotypical French rudeness and at her accent. She should have begun to practice it far earlier; now, she was counting the seconds until it became second nature.

His face dropped in shock, and his eyes quickly fell on his professor, who was staring at him gently behind his crescent glasses. "There is much we have to discuss, my friend."

"Indeed," the headmaster snapped his fingers and tea service appeared. He poured for all of them, politely asking the girl how she took it before settling back and glancing between the pair for an explanation.

Hermione swallowed nervously, "I'll start, Uncle. If it becomes too much," she let her voice trail off and he nodded his consent –if he needed to speak of his own history, he would. "My name i_z_ Mimi Granger, and I am the last member of my own family, as well as the family I was to marry into. After my fiancé's family denied Grindelwald access to _z_eir accounts, he killed everyone. I was," she allowed her voice to break, "I was at a friend's house when the ambush 'appned, twelve nights ago. When I was informed of the event, the French Ministry put me into protective custody until someone _v_as contacted on my behalf, due to the fact that I am still in school. Beauxbatons offered to keep me safe, as my family had become very close to Madame, but I no longer wanted to remain there. I wanted," she sniffled sadly, "I wanted to be closer to someone I knew and trusted. I knew, from mon papa's story of this acade- I am sorry, school, that this place is supposed to be as safe as Beauxbatons, so I asked _z_e Minister to contact Uncle Albus, as he is my _parrain_, on my behalf."

"The Ministry is keeping the occurrence under wraps, Headmaster, due to the fact they are trying to keep attention off of Grindelwald in attempt to deter him," Albus explained. He pulled the shrunken transcripts he'd sent himself out and resized them, sliding the stack over the desk. "I could not deny my goddaughter, as it was her father's request that I take her in if anything were to happen to he and his wife, or their first surviving choice."

"And has something happened to them as well?" He asked quietly.

"You will find that you know Mimi's family name," Albus boasted. If he was honest with himself, he couldn't wait to see the reaction of finding out the family was still around –even if they weren't, he supposed, though Hermione did remind him a great deal of his dead childhood friend.

"Forgive me, but the name Granger rings no bells."

"It i_z_ an alias. It was…unsafe for me to be known as a Montague. Of course, it is now unsafe to be a Granger, so I'm not sure if an alias is doing me any good." She smiled softly at his shocked expression, as the Montague family was the oldest in Wizarding Italian history, and they'd passed away nearly ten years ago, after refusing Grindelwald. Fumbling in her robes, she pulled out her women's version family necklace and cast a quick _revelio _to display the gemstone necklace her 'mother' had made quite popular during her youth, both of which the Dumbledore of her time had given her in order to solidify her story.

The Montague family necklace was as simple as it was priceless; the chain was made of delicate looking gold from Thailand, shining brightly as it fell over her collar and down her breastbone to the center of her chest; nestled safely by her heart rested the golden M, with a small black diamond in it's final bottom edge, beneath the family emblem of a snake and swords. The second necklace circled her neck loosely, and the world knew of it being the first gift Massimo had given Myrine; set prettily to match the family jewelry, the necklet consisted of thirty nicely sized sapphires, which had been her family stone, each individually surrounded by fifteen tiny, black diamonds, which had been the Montague stone. It was a delightful piece that spoke not only of the value he'd placed on the young Greek girl, but the fortune of the family as well. Hermione found herself charmed by them, and was almost sad to have to turn the pieces over upon returning to her own time. They made her feel the part she had to play, the weight of them reminding her of her duplicity.

Silently, she charmed the gemstones invisible and tucked the emblem back into her robes.

"It's an honor to meet the last surviving Montague. How you all have managed to keep such a secret for so long is incredible." Dippet was obviously both awed and dumbfounded, and Dumbledore hoped that would allow them to take their leave soon.

"Surely, you'll see the importance of keeping this absolutely, silent, Headmaster. We do not want to endanger Mimi within the walls of what is to be her sanctuary."

"Of course, of course," he straightened up, but the look of awe never left his eyes. "Well, lets see about getting you sorted, Miss Granger. I'm sure you would like to get some rest." He made himself busy by getting up for the hat while Hermione and Dumbledore shared a look of success. "Now, this won't hurt; it helps to place you in a house with like-minded people. They will be here to support you during the school year; like a second family, if you will. Now, if I may," he placed the hat on her head and both men stared curiously at her as the pair discussed her possibilities.

_Well isn't this a pleasant surprise, Hermione, _the hat mused. _I have been waiting on your return. So much you've learned in Gryffindor…despite the lack of proper stimulation. Hmmm, I see, quite the task you've been given. I cannot wait to see-well, that will come later. Do you have any requests, witch? Ah, Slytherin. I see. Yes, that would be the most obvious…though I should say that you would be of more value in Ravenclaw. Oh, not this discussion again. Well, all right, those snakes are yours after all, Miss Montague, "_Slytherin!" The Hat finally announced after a dark chuckle within her head.

Dippet smiled to himself, "Quite a fine house, indeed. Albus, would you mind showing Miss Granger to her common room? Forgive me if I rely too much on you; I'm quite happy to see you with a family member, even if the circumstances are unfortunate."

Dumbledore smiled, "of course not, Headmaster. Though, I was hoping to discus the possibility of Mimi receiving her own quarters within the House, for her own safety and privacy."

"Absolutely. We wouldn't want, well, we won't speak of such things. We want nothing but your comfort while here at Hogwarts; you need only ask if you require anything. Perhaps on the walk to her rooms, Albus, you can discuss classes, and we can set them up before dinner.

"We will have the Head Girl and Boy here by dinner this evening, and they will be here preparing themselves for the upcoming semester fro the rest of the week. Perhaps you will meet the Head Boy in your commons, as he is one of your house," he clapped enthusiastically before walking them to the door. "I will put him in charge of accompanying you to pick up your school things in Hogsmeade. They are limited in what they offer, but they do have the basics, and a lovely seamstress, if I do say so. That is, if you are okay with it, Albus. I do know your distrust of Tom, but he is a fine boy."

"I trust he will not dishonor my goddaughter. That will be fine. If we see him, I will inform it," Albus offered Hermione his arm and they proceeded down the staircase and toward the Great Hall.

The walk down the main staircase to the dungeons brought a chill to the air, and Hermione found herself dropping the cooling charm she'd previously casted. She and the professor made small talk as they journeyed, both stopping by the office of the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Slughorn, so that he may meet his new student. He fell to her charm instantly, and the pair continued on.

"There is no password required to access the House before the semester begins, however I will show you how to set one for our rooms. Perhaps," he stopped short as the stones slide apart in welcome and Hermione was instantly hit by how grand the common room was. It was like stepping into a truly gothic castle. The Black Lake was visible, as one wall was made of glass that helped to provide natural light (though it was quite limited) while torches lit what was left untouched by it. She was so distracted by the dark beauty of it all that the young man occupying a study table went unnoticed.

"Yes, good. Good afternoon, Tom. I hope that your holiday went well," Dumbledore spoke slightly coldly, which shocked Hermione.

"Of course, Professor. As well as always." The young wizard replied with just as much coldness. He rose from the table and eyed Hermione as he neared them. She found herself swallowing a few times, forcing herself to remember that she had no reason to fear him. No reason at all, as she didn't actually know who he was yet. Besides, she was a pureblood. He was actually beneath her. The thought made her smug.

He offered his hand to her, "Tom Riddle, Head Boy. You must be Mimi Granger." As she slipped her hand into his, he gave her an incredibly handsome smirk and placed his lips on her knuckles charmingly. They were warm against her suddenly cool skin. "The headmaster just left the Floo. Slytherin House is happy to have you."

"_Merci beaucoup_, Monsieur Riddle. It i_z _nice to meet you."

"Shall I show you to your rooms, then? They are down the hall from my own."

"I will show her, Tom. Please wait here. I have a few things to discuss with you while she gets settled," without a pause, Albus led Hermione up the staircase nearest to the door.

At the top of the steps, Tom's door appeared first, his initials pressed upon the silver plaque in a deep green coloring. They continued down the short hall, nearing the glass wall, and found Hermione's door with her initials already on it. The quartet of M's appeared artistically, and she ran her fingers over them.

"To set the password, please place your wand atop the plaque; yes, that's it. Now the rooms are keyed to your magic. Now, set your hand upon the knob and speak the password. To reset them, just repeat the process."

She did as she was told, deciding easily to make this month's password _Crookshanks._ With a small smile, she bid farewell to Dumbledore, and stepped inside. It was large and cold, and she quickly determined that she would be redecorating. Being in Slytherin she could tolerate, but this was another story. Quickly, she set to work of making herself at home.

The less time to linger on the fact that she and Tom Riddle were the only people in the commons, the better.

* * *

Her room was bathed in darkness when she awoke, causing her to point her wand at on of the torches and whisper the charm that lit the five that lit the room. It made quite the difference, despite the darkness of the Black Light seeping into her living space. The changes she'd made, such as bathing the room in creams and pastel greens –in attempt at house pride- and brightening the wood from cherry to sand and giving the stone a power wash to lighten it.

With a stretch, she got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, which she'd updated to the new standards of her room, to freshen up. Dinner would be soon, and she found that she was quite hungry. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she redid her French braid before casting an _Accio _to get a pair of light trousers, a camisole, and her transfigured, Beauxbatons robe. Feeling the part of a French-raised pureblood (simplicity had always been an important part of their lifestyles, she's once read), she stepped out of her bathroom and let out a yelp of surprise.

"_Mon dieu!" _She exclaimed, staring at the Head Boy with wide eyes.

He was sitting at the foot of her bed, on the bench she'd transfigured her empty trunk into. He smirked pleasantly, as though it were a natural reaction to smirk rather than smile at people, and Hermione found herself growing incredibly uncomfortable. How on earth had he entered her rooms? Slowly, he rubbed his hand over the soft fabric of the bench.

"I don't believe my rooms come with such a piece."

"_V_at are you doing in my rooms!" She summoned her wand, but didn't raise it. _You mustn't make yourself into a threat…_

"You left your door open, Miss Granger, I assumed it was an invitation." He rose fluidly, "I see now that it was not. Please forgive me. I meant no harm. I simply wondered if you'd like a short tour on the way to dinner."

She looked suspiciously at him, not buying it for one moment. He seemed not to notice her distrust, and she silently thanked Snape for his teachings. "That is very kind of you, Monsieur Riddle," she stepped toward him, checking her wristwatch. The gold shined and black diamonds sucked in the light, drawing his attention. "We still have a bit of time before we are to be there."

"It'd be unkind of me to leave you unaccompanied, Miss Granger. Perhaps you'll join me in the common room for tea?"

"_Magnifique_," she gave him a beautiful smile, and guarded her mind. Whatever Dumbledore had said to him left him curious. _Good_, she thought, _he should be_.

Upon settling in the common room, both in the comfortable armchairs by the fire, which he charmed aflame before using magic to get the seats to face one another, the service appeared on a small table between them. He served, interestingly enough, and she noticed that had quiet the sweet tooth.

"I suppose you are Muggleborn, then. Riddle isn't a name I'm aware of," she spoke lightly, going in for the kill. Afterwards, she sipped her tea daintily, as though discussing the weather.

He actually froze at her callousness, and took the moment to study her, although he'd already done so as she'd slept. She was quiet pretty, with large, chocolate eyes and a pert nose. Her lips were a natural red, as thought she chewed on them seconds before, and her skin was nicely tanned, likely from her summer holiday in France. Her hair, despite him having only seen it in the braid, was a mixture of shades of brown, thick, and curly. He'd seen some girl's hair come to life with their magic was potent, usually, once a month, on the same day their beauty was strongest, and he figured that hers would look quite lovely in that state. She looked _good_, which is why her comment unnerved him, which also made him feel quite stupid, and in turn upset. Of course she wasn't good.

"I could say the same of your own, Miss Granger," he kept his cool for a moment. Relaxing into his chair, he resumed the tone and aloof expression he used on his followers, "I thought perhaps we could bask in the glory of being all-powerful half-bloods."

"Why would you assume that I _v_as powerful or _metis_?" She set her cup down carefully and folded her hands over her knees, ankles crossed. Draco, who'd defaulted to the Order about half a year ago, would tell her that her pureblood was showing, if he were to see her now. The thought made her happy, and she allowed the corners of her lips to turn up teasingly.

His look of disgust alerted her that he knew what metis meant. "Forgive, Miss Granger, but did I do something wrong?"

"Beside enter my rooms without consent?"

"For which I apologized."

She sighed and got up, "Thank you for the tea and stimulation, Monsieur. It _v_as very kind for someone such as yourself."

He had her pinned to the wall instantly, finally upset by her disrespect. His wand was positioned like a knife against her neck and the heat of the fire seemed to burn through her silk fabrics. "How dare you disrespect me, you little no name girl? Have you no sense?"

"I suggest you release me. This is hardly becoming behavior for an 'ead Boy."

"Drop the act, _ma Cherie_," he pressed his wand harder and she felt it slice her skin. Idly, she realized his thumb was against her pulse point, as though he was hoping to feel to the quickening of her heartbeat, and she resisted snorting. "There are no Wizarding families of such a name. Claiming that Dumbledore is your godfather? That your family was killed by that fool of a dark wizard?" He laughed harshly, not believing any of the stories he'd heard. "Why would he care for _you_?"

Hermione found herself worried. She knew he was a man of facts, and she'd given him none. Logically, he'd be disbelieving of the hearsay, specially coming from Dumbledore, who meant nothing to him, and Dippet. However, it'd be difficult to prove she was a pureblood until the Malfoy arrived. She couldn't be sure that Voldemort would know who the Montague's were, but his followers would. Draco had assured her that if no one else, she would gain his grandfather's trust and respect if she showed him the emblem. Even in this time, a Malfoy's word was heavy. If he vouched for her, she had an in. Still, that wouldn't be for another six days. She didn't exactly want to worry about being manhandled at every turn.

"I don't know how you fooled the hat into this House, with your filthy blood, but you cannot fool me." He sneered, "Whatever standing you hold in the Muggle world will do nothing here."

"I'm afraid you don't know _v_at you are speaking of."

He pulled away from her, straightening his school robes and eyeing her with a dark expression. "I gave you a chance, Miss Granger. You seek sanctuary from France, do you? You'll find none here," he spat coldly, turning towards the door.

"Meet me in front of the Great Hall in ten minutes, girl." With that, he swept out the common room. Hermione left herself fall into the chair he'd been occupying, charming the cut on her neck closed before messaging her temples. That hadn't gone well, at all.

_Well_, she thought grimly, _I'm neither simpering nor a threat._

She was officially a target, and she had until the start of term to fix it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Parrain _means godfather in French; I'll drop little french words or sayings throughout the story (that should always be super easy to figure out), as well as change common letters to remind you all of the accent she's up-keeping.

Also, Montague is a completely made up family (I pulled the name from Shakespeare, but there is no connection, I just really like names with all one letter for the initials, and it seems to be kind of popular in the Wizarding world), Hermione won't be going by it, it simply helps to establish her as a pureblood, which is obviously vital for her task.

Hopefully you enjoyed the small amount of Tomione action! (:


	3. Bull's Eye

**Disclaimer: **I'm not JK Rowling, just a fan.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Two afternoons later found Hermione sitting in the common room. She had not spoken to Tom since their moment on the night of her arrival, and had only seen him during meals. He'd gone so far as to pass off his task of escorting her to Hogsmeade to Minerva McGonagall, who did so as if Hermione had her wand pressed against her neck the entire time. It was disappointing and uncomfortable, to say the least.

Sighing and setting her book down beside her, she decided she needed a new word. Everything was uncomfortable lately, and her lack of brainpower to describe it any other way was frustrating. Nothing seemed to be going her way. Of course she hadn't believed this would be easy, but something wasn't quite right.

Firstly, Voldemort had been chatty. Harry had told her he loved to talk, but there was something more. It was as though he suspected her of something and had attempted to talk through it, which wouldn't be very beneficial at all. His current silent treatment was no better, as it meant that he might be suspicious and working on something. If he were suspicious of her, she would be found out.

She wouldn't and couldn't lie to herself about that. Everyone knew he was a highly educated and intellectual individual; if he set his mind to figuring her out, he would surely do it.

Secondly, he'd broke through her wards and into her room. He'd done so twice so far, and the only reason she knew the second time was because she's used his first breech of privacy against him. Hermione couldn't help to admit that his rebuilding of new wards that would mimic was intricate and intriguing, and she would question him about it if she ever caught him within the room.

How on earth had he managed to mimic her magical signature? There should be no way. His ability was both benefiting and hurting her. She couldn't leave any notes or plans out, but she could leave different books and theories about the room. If he believed her to be studying the Dark Arts, she may spike his interest yet.

Thirdly, she was having a tough time coming into herself. Not only had she asserted herself too greatly in front of Voldemort, but also repeated to do the same thing in front of Slughorn and Dippet. Women of this time period were, unfortunately, not quite as outspoken she was naturally. The only thing she had going for her was that they did think of the French as less then themselves; it was at least expected for her to speak and act a bit brashly. However, her behavior could have been what turned her into a target, which brought her full circle.

Folding her legs underneath her, the misplaced witch let her head fall back onto the back of the couch in thought. So, they'd gotten off on the wrong foot. That didn't mean it was over. Snape had taught her how to get out of plenty of tricky situations. This was nothing she couldn't handle. All she needed was his attention again, and she could transform it. After all, he was a teenage boy-

Hermione's eyes popped open. He wasn't Voldemort, yet. Or, maybe he was, but only his close followers knew of such a name. He was _human_, and a vulnerable Tom Riddle was nothing to fear. Sure, he had a horcrux, which meant he'd already killed, but really, what was that to Hermione? Professor Snape had killed, and she had nothing to fear from him. Something in the back of her mind reminded her about the theory of intent, but she promptly ignored it, letting her eyes fall shut again.

Riddle was a teenaged boy, and therefore not immune to the charms of a young woman…or at least she hoped. In her proper time, she hadn't heard anything about a romantic interest on his behalf, or that he even knew there was such thing as human female. That was disconcerting, but not something she couldn't attempt to fix. Snape had mentioned that it was all very unclear; maybe he meant that in terms of the Dark Lord's private life as a whole? It wouldn't be too far fetched.

Briefly, she lingered on thoughts of her Professor and Draco. She'd found herself thinking about them more than she'd expected to, and even missing them. The young wizard had attached onto Hermione upon joining the Order, much to her initial dismay, but she found his sarcasm and dark banter to be reassuring after a few weeks of his pestering. He'd helped to mold her into an ideal pureblood, in his own way, and she was thankful for his actions. The older wizard was simply her guidance through this all, even if it was only day three and she was already screwed. She'd put her own foot in her mouth.

The couch shifted, and she opened her eyes to find the devil himself sitting on the opposite end. She sat up, and turned slightly toward him, watching as he crossed his legs and propped a thick book up on the arm of the furniture. Undeterred by his silent treatment, she decided that he was quite handsome. His profile was strong, and reminded her of one of those handsome young warriors that got shipped out –oh god: the ones that were dying in Muggle Germany right now. Swallowing, she took those thoughts out of her head. They meant nothing to what she was doing now. Neither the war nor realizing the Dark Lord's handsomeness was beneficial. They were both things that would cease to exist.

"That is an interesting book you have there, Miss Granger," he spoke lowly.

She glanced down at what she'd been reading, _Magick Moste Evile, _by Godelet. It wasn't incredibly interesting or informative, and had been something she'd breezed through before, but it was a part of her plan. Snape had sent her away with copies of some of the more potent books from his collection, as well as many from the Black and Montague collections, on top of the mild ones she purchased on her own –or borrowed from Grimmauld Place. It had been to further her knowledge, but if it made her more interesting as well, she'd take what she could get.

Modestly, she picked it up and hugged it to her chest. Although he wasn't actually looking at her, he seemed to smirk at the action. "I wonder what dear Uncle Albus would think of your interests?"

"I do believe that i_z _Professor Dum-_bly_-dore to you, Monsieur Riddle," she spoke confidently before letting the book fall face first into her lap. At a whisper, she added, "He would think it smart to know thy enemy, anyhow." She felt his eyes fall on her, and resisted looking at him. Instead, she built up to apologizing for her previous actions. It would take everything in her to sound sincere.

He made a sound of interest, "Grindelwald, then? I suppose I would fear him if I were you. Although, there are more important threats to concern yourself with."

"Like yourself?" _So much for apologizing, _she sighed. Still, she didn't look at him.

He was quiet for a few moments; holding a weapon to her throat had been quiet stupid, but he blamed her for it. He hadn't had to deal with so much insubordinate behavior since his second year; he was unprepared for the attack. Which was not a mistake he would make again. "My actions were unacceptable, and I applaud you for not running to the infirmary to be healed," he allowed quietly.

"I had quite a few 'alf-blood friends, Monsieur. I have nothing against you. I can imagine it would be hard to be accepted by a house who prize_z_ pureblood."

He scowled at her pity, "Yes, well, you'll soon find out just how unaccommodating toward _mongrels_ we are here in Slytherin." His using her prior threat against her was humoring, and she went in for the stab.

"Perhaps your mother was a Malfoy? For someone so intelligent you are acting quite dumb. I have heard that bad blood is passed through women."

"You're speaking ill of yourself, Cherie."

"Fortunately, my famille doesn't suffer from inbreeding. We take care of such things outside of Wizarding Britain. It is quite frowned upon."

"You insolent little girl," he rose from his seat, facing her. There was a venomous expression on his face as he considered his options, reveling in the fear in her eyes. He could show her, her place now, or he could hold off and make an example out of her to his Knights. Or he could spend every moment until the start of term beating her into submission, and make a display of her to the entire school. It would be a win for him, a loss for Dumbledore –the Muggle loving pansy-, and one so sweet indeed.

Of course, he could be wrong about her. If the truth was that Grindelwald had killed her family, the reason must have been a good one. The only way the French would have been able to cover it up as they'd done would be if the family had been in hiding to begin with, which would mean they were of some importance. It would be a shame to lose such a pretty witch, if she turned out to be pure, after all. Her obvious interest in the Dark Arts, and the fact that he'd seen her throughout the castle tearing through her school books made her intelligence obvious –paired with being a part of a valuable family, she would be beneficial to him.

The young Dark Lord fought off sneering. He wouldn't know anything for sure until the first, when one of his Knights could determine if she were familiar to them. Patience would be needed until then, which was fine. He was nothing if not a patient man, when he needed to be.

"You're walking a fine line, Miss Granger, but you _will _learn," he sat down calmly, placing his fists on his knees. "I would suggest that you show me respect as Head Boy, or else I will have to dock points and inform the Headmaster of your refusal to display appropriate regard." With that, he resumed his book, and the pair sat in silence until dinner.

Hermione counted the situation as a win.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had planned a late afternoon stroll and early dinner for Hermione on her fourth day in the castle. It seemed as though it was something one would do with a goddaughter, and he found himself deciding to make it a monthly event as they settled into their seats on the patio of _The Golden Egg_, a relatively new restaurant on the upper end of Diagon Alley. He had no family to speak of, as he and his brother were no longer in friendly communication, and Hermione was a breath of fresh of air for him. Her potential radiated in her eyes and power glowed from her skin, which was beautiful and bothersome all the same.

He watched as she gripped her wand and mumbled a spell he couldn't quite make out, her eyes focused on the menu, and felt the magic encase the table. As though she'd sensed his question she answered, "One of your future professors created that spell. The standard version keeps conversations private within it's bounds, the one I used keeps the conversation between the intended persons." She smiled to herself sadly, "He will be more intelligent and worthy than anyone will ever realize." With that, she looked up thoughtfully. "Except the two of us, and Voldemort."

"I see," he spoke solemnly as she returned to her perusal. They shared casual conversation as they waited for their entrees, Hermione growing more and more curious of what he was building up to say as the time passed. When it seemed as though she'd burst with interest, he finally reclined thoughtfully and considered her. From what he'd gathered from his letter to himself, whatever task she'd been given was successful, but the world she lived in was laden with war that spilled over into the lives of mere children. Had she actually been successful? When he finally completed the time turner that would be able to send her into the future, a near impossible feat, should he send her back immediately? Or would it be better to keep her for longer, allowing more time for Tom to become interested and invested in her? Should he even send her back at all, if she were to become meaningful to the boy? Had that been what drove him into what he'd become in her time?

It was too much for him to consider, especially considering the beautifully fragile looking girl before him was the one to change everything. He'd give anything to talk with the version of himself she knew. The guidance he'd given had been liberal, forcing him to make executive decisions. Future Dumbledore formed his own theories on time travel, seemingly that whatever they decided to do here had already been done and couldn't impact them in any way, but his current self found that very hard to believe.

They were in an alternate version of the past now, and Hermione could be a lethal potion. Finally, he asked, "Do you have a plan?"

She seemed to deflate, "It relies on Malfoy heavily." Voicing it felt good and bad. She had a plan, but she depended on someone else to make it work. It made her feel almost back at square one.

Dumbledore drew her mind away from it by saying, "I know you are very close to one in your time. A love interest, perhaps?"

The witch resisted snorting. "He's grown to mean more than I thought he would, that's for sure, but Draco and I are like fire and gasoline."

"Draco, you say? Like the constellation?" The twinkle his eye told Hermione all she needed to know: she'd messed up; he now knew that the Black and Malfoy families would unite. Could he change that? _Would _he? She hoped not, but he continued speaking before she got the opportunity to tell him. "Still, they are men of their word. He must have known something important, to have you rely on Abraxas."

"Yes, I gathered there was a bit they weren't telling me."

"Time, my dear, will tell. Until then, how are things going in the dungeons? Slughorn tells me you've had tea? And that you and Tom are getting on swimmingly?"

"I'm going to drown in tea before term starts, honestly." Hermione sighed, thinking about the stack of invitations she still had from professors and interested reporters. News of being Dumbledore's goddaughter had spread quickly (she didn't need a brain to know it'd been the overly chatty Slughorn), made evident by the curious glances and flashing cameras they'd caught while out today. She was happy that _The Golden Egg_ was a private establishment with a back patio. The view was lovely, even if it were magically enhanced, and the lack of nosey pedestrians made it all the better. "However, Riddle and I are in hot water. He…doesn't believe anything that comes out of my mouth, to put it nicely." She decided to leave out their altercation. "Mostly, he ignores me."

"I thought he'd do his best to befriend you, in his own way. You two look comfortable together during meals. Anyhow, it would be beneficial to him to have my goddaughter as an ally." His eyes twinkled.

"Thank you for not saying supporter or follower. I can't think of myself as either." Even if they were fundamentally all the same, it made her feel better to be an ally.

"No. I wouldn't want to consider that, either. You are too intelligent. He may realize that, but let's wait to see how Malfoy impacts your relationship."

"Do you believe he's made more then two horcruxes?" She asked after a few moments of silence.

Dumbledore seemed to draw into himself. "I was only aware of one, though I can't say I know what or where it is."

"There were at least two made during his time at Hogwarts," she mused, and it was the most she divulged on the subject. It wasn't that she didn't want to keep the Transfiguration Master up to date on her task; it was simply not in her nature to give up all the information at once. Overtime, when she was in need of a sounding board, then she may admit more.

Their entrees arrived, and the pair tucked in.

.

.

.

On the walk down to the dungeons after dinner, Dumbledore rattled on about what he was working on, and Hermione resisted telling him what to spend more time on. As they stopped in front of the House passage, he smiled kindly at her.

"Thank you for dinner, _Oncle_. And _z_e new familiar," she glanced fondly down at her little box, which she'd picked up on her way home.

"And thank you for the company, my dear. We should do this again soon."

"I'd like that," she smiled genuinely and her box rattled just as Riddle appeared.

He glanced at it dismissively before looking skeptically at the pair, scowling at the older wizard. "We missed you all at dinner."

"I'm sure you did, Monsieur Riddle," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a bit defensive of the professor. She'd known that he'd ultimately be the death of him, and it suddenly wasn't a nice feeling. She didn't pay attention to his shocked expression, unsure if it was for the professor's benefit or not. "Did you need something?"

"Access to the commons, to start with," he replied primly, slipping by them as they separated.

"You shouldn't tempt him, Mimi," Dumbledore warned on deaf ears before summoning a house elf to take her belongings to her room. He didn't doubt the confrontation on the other side of the door.

Of course, she knew better, but getting under his skin felt good. It would make it sweeter once he realized she was more of a prize than he believed her to be…even if she really wasn't.

"_Bonsoir_, Uncle." She dipped into the common room before he could reply.

As expected, Riddle was waiting by the door, and latched on to her persons more quickly than she thought possible. "Our little chat last night did nothing to fix that mouth, I see," he murmured into her ear. He'd pressed her front against the stonewall quite painfully, his hand in her hair and body pressed against hers. "Or perhaps you thought Uncle Albus could protect you?"

"I won't have you disrespecting my uncle, thank you."

He tightened his grip on her hair, and Hermione dully wondered if he was this hostile with everyone he met, or if she were just so lucky to not be deceived. For half a second, she debated whether it was in her best interest to ask before deciding she didn't really care. He'd learn soon.

"I must ask: are you always so kind and generous with your attentions? Or am I something of meaning to you?"

Somehow, he managed to press her harder into the stone. She flinched, and heard the smirk in his voice as he spoke. "Oh, ma Cherie, you're quite special to me. Dumbledore's goddaughter?" His humor was evident. "In Slytherin House? It's so sweet to have you under my guidance."

It seemed as though her sass brought out his chatty side, and she considered whether it was a defense mechanism, or a way to throw her off. Deciding to claim her power as a woman, she softened under him, letting her body mold into his. Reveling in the way he tensed, she turned her head slightly and felt his breath on her temple before he raised his head. "Oh, Monsieur Riddle, _eet_ would be sweeter to just 'ave me under you, no?"

He shoved away from her before she even finished the question, and she turned to find him watching her with bewilderment, as though he'd just realized her capable of being an object of desire. It was both humoring and upsetting, understandably.

"What are you playing at, witch?" His voice was a quiet threat, showing her she'd gone too far.

Still, she smiled beautifully, and shrugged shyly. "You don't have to be on _z_e, how do you say- _offensif_, you know? I am no threat."

"No, you're a liar," he spat. His head was clear again, not that he would admit to suddenly allowing his eyes drop from her face to her body. It was the last thing he needed to be interested in this year. Not with so much on the line.

_"C'est Slytherin."_

The young wizard sneered, gripped her arm, and pushed her toward and then up the steps. "You will accompany me to dinner from now on. I told you once before that I won't stand for your disrespect." As they reached her door, he forced it open with more ease than her wards should allow, furthering her proof that he'd tampered with them; however, he didn't seem to pay the obvious breach any mind as he shoved her in. He smirked, eyes darkening suggestively, "And be prepared to follow through with such unladylike suggestions in the future, Miss Granger. I don't take to being teased."

He closed the door, and left her feeling unsure who'd won that battle.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione discovered a secret door on the staircase. Frowning, she pushed it open to find a room obviously influenced by magic. A large window streamed in false light she assumed mimicked the sun, brightening the unnaturally large sitting room. Surprisingly, she found Riddle and Malfoy sitting in line of the sun, teacups in their hands and a collection of biscuits before them. Unsure how to proceed, she gave her most beautiful smile, and both men stood quickly.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Riddle greeted with a kind smirk, as though they weren't on thin ice. He even walked over to her, standing confidently beside her as the blonde wizard made his way toward them. "I hadn't expected you to wake so soon," his hand came to rest on the back of her neck, warm fingers brushing the hair up and pushing the necklaces away before latching on securely. He'd finally discovered them. She allowed herself to tense under him: he would question the chain he couldn't see, and likely believe the visible one were a Catholic cross –as he had yet to get over believing her to be Muggleborn. The latter she could deal with.

He didn't apply pressure, but she understood the gesture. He wanted her claws- _fangs,_ she corrected mentally, in. Inwardly smiling, she decided to ceasefire for the time being. She wanted Malfoy on her team, and she was a lady after all. Beside her, he straightened as though he had won a battle. _Just you wait._

"I'd like you to meet Abraxas Malfoy. He's a dear friend of mine, from an honorable family." He watched as she offered his Knight her hand.

Abraxas kissed her knuckles, and Hermione resisted pulling him into a hug. He was Draco, flesh and blood, nearly to a T. The only difference between them was their stature: her Malfoy had his mother's bird like frame, suitable for being a Seeker; this one looked as though he could take the world upon his shoulders.

"It's an honor, Miss Granger," he spoke lowly in a voice that seemed to brush over her skin.

"Mimi is fine, Monsieur Malfoy." At her tone, she felt Riddle press his finger into a soft spot on her neck. She knew he would recognize her charm, and his discomfort pleased her greatly.

"Then I insist you call me Abraxas." His smile was handsome as he straightened himself and gestured toward the set up, "Please, join us."

Instantly, thoughts of her Malfoy were thrust into her head, and found herself fighting off her first bit homesickness. Her first visit to Snape's house found Draco answering the door with a smile that matched the one Abraxas had just given her, and a similar offer to join them for dinner. Riddle ripped her back into reality by pushing her forward and into the couch they'd been occupying. As he took the seat beside her, Abraxas settled into the armchair to her left, making her a cup of tea.

Having sat primly on the edge, slightly closer to her future ally, she subtly tugged the chain over the collar of her camisole, drawing his attention as she took the offering from him. She let him observe the emblem and initial carefully as she sipped her tea, the silence comfortable to her. When she believed long enough had passed, Hermione slipped the thin chain back under her top and set her cup on a saucer, reclining into Riddle's curved arm as though it were a regular occurrence.

The young Malfoy looked at them in awe, observing Slytherin's heir and the last member a house even older than Black as they basked in the morning sun. He understood her showing him the emblem: his Lord had no idea the power the lived down the hall from him, and would only believe it if it were to come from his 'most trusted' follower's mouth. She was relying on him to convey her status, and protect her secret. He wouldn't fail her. _La Dimora di Montague _had chosen this Dark Lord.

Abraxas had never been surer in his decision to follow Lord Voldemort than he was now, and he resisted bowing before the pair. As he lowered his eyes, Hermione lifted her chin grandly, neither actions going unnoticed by the dark haired wizard.

Hermione shivered with glee, not bothered by Riddle's eyes being focused on her suspiciously. With that, she folded her ankles, laced her fingers, and opened the floor for discussion with her new friend. No Malfoy had ever failed her before. Tom Riddle would be hers before term.

Two out of three wins were good enough for her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm working through Tom (he's proving to be a little tougher than I expected), so bare with me, please. Hopefully this chapter was enjoyable!

Also, a special thank you to my first reviewer, AvalonTheLadyKiller ^-^ (I actually squealed when I saw it.) My goal is to have any known character at a careful balance between OC and OOC, so I'm glad you noticed that. I'm happy I caught your attention (:


	4. The Door

**Disclaimer: **Nothing by the plot is my own. The world and the lovely characters/things in it belong to JK Rowling and those affiliated.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Tom Riddle wasn't used to being out of the loop.

He'd watched as his follower and the girl chatted for nearly an hour before feeling so left out that he excused himself. As it was hard to determine if Abraxas was just being polite, or if she was actually of some value, he couldn't take his suddenly free time as an opportunity to evaluate his stance on her. It was difficult enough having everyone in the school absolutely taken by the witch, and couldn't stand to imagine what it'd be like the morning after next, when term actually started. Surely, _someone _had to hate her as much as he did. The Head Girl seemed to be the only one who didn't care for her, and that helped him none, because he didn't consider McGonagall at all. Although, he supposed, if the girl managed to charm her way into the lives of his Knights, he'd require McGonagall more than he really cared to admit.

It was also exhausting to have Granger in his head. She wasn't a constant thought, but catching her perfume in the hallway or seeing her books lying around the commons caused her to plague his mind for much longer than he'd ever admit to. Sure, she was quite pretty, and he'd finally noticed her sexually (which only added to how exhausting it all was), but he _did _have more important things to worry about. Thankfully, he'd at least managed to slip out of the castle and meet with two people while Abraxas occupied her time.

Having read of artifacts each Founder had left behind, he'd taken to tracking them down, if only temporarily. Having finally gotten a last-known-location of Helga Hufflepuff's cup, he'd made is way to Borgin and Burkes to see about who'd gotten their hands on it. He'd convinced the owner to keep him informed on their process before journeying over to Nicholas Avery's house. While he didn't care much for the family, Avery was a faithful follower and showed a true talent in curse breaking. He'd decided to make it a point to encourage the fellow Slytherin to purse a career with Gringotts as a Curse Breaker after graduation. Of course, he seemed to take charge under his Lord's advisement.

.

.

He woke up the day before term feeling confident and relaxed. After an early breakfast, he walked over to Gryffindor table to collect McGonagall. They'd decided to journey together to Kings Cross before embarking with the rest of the students –sans Granger- to Hogwarts. He was thankful they'd already discussed everything pressing before the start of term, giving them the freedom to only meet during their weekly assembly with the Prefects. Together, they'd decided that Minerva was far more equipped to be their face, though they would display a united front to the school, while he handled their paperwork. With this decided, he had to do little more than help greet the students as they boarded the train, giving him the opportunity to spend the daylong train ride back to Hogwarts catching up with his Knights.

Of course, she barely looked at him when she got up, school bag on her shoulder as she marched toward the exit, where they'd find the arranged port-key. He hadn't expected her to be friendly toward him, despite learning of their mutual dislike for Dumbledore's niece (although he suspected she didn't like the new girl because she posed a threat to the old wizards fondness of her), but her coldness was upsetting. Having females unimpressed by his looks and charms seemed to be a growing problem for him, and he hoped it wasn't a sign.

It wasn't as though he was weak and simpleminded, like many young men of his age, he simply enjoyed reveling in carnal pleasures. For the time being, partaking in such activities was incredibly satisfying. It'd be unfortunate if his charm were evaporating. He'd really have to work on that. Not that it would stop him from seeking fulfillment, if need be.

Upon reaching King Cross, they noted there was about an hour before students would be filling Platform 9 ¾, and went their separate ways to find a seat and pre-check carriages. Tom decided to collapse onto the well-cushioned seat in a way he rarely allowed himself to, pressing his back against the window and kicking his feet up. This particular location wouldn't fit his followers, but it would do for the time being. Rummaging through his day bag, he pulled out the book Granger had left in the commons the day before –he'd picked it up on his way out this morning, drawn in by the shimmering cover. Apparently, she's finished _Magick Moste Evile_, and had moved on to something she felt the need to keep from curious eyes.

Breaking the notice-me-not charm, which was more powerful than he'd expected it to be, magic hummed through his body, calling to him as he ran his hands over the cover of _Secrets of the Darkest Art. _Smiling to himself, he considered what the little witch would be doing with it. Would Dumbledore's goddaughter actually be considering creating a horcrux? She seemed curious enough to try, though he wasn't quite sure she could kill someone. However, she'd already proven she had more nerve than she'd let on.

Thoughts of her caused him to remember the girl and Abraxas at dinner the night before. They'd laughed together, speaking in rapid French, largely pissing him off. Had they really gotten so comfortable as to speak in other languages with each other? He scowled; his French was limited at best, it wouldn't do to have his friend and the girl having frequent discussions he couldn't understand. He'd teach himself French, and then every other language in Europe before tackling Africa and Asia. Such a weakness in himself wouldn't be tolerated.

However, their comfort with each other allowed Tom the opportunity to see how the rest of the house would react to her. Her charm was more powerful than his, and he had to force himself not to be so taken by the way she'd relaxed before the fire in their private sitting room during their group nightcap. In the haze of the room, as he and Abraxas had been smoking, she'd had that damned chain over the collar of her robes, her fingers fiddling with the emblem. He could think of other places for her hands to focus.

Presently, he found himself scowling at how quickly his thoughts had gotten away from him. Propping open the book, despite that he'd already read it a few times, he allowed himself to fall into the history. As the free hour drew near to end, he shoved the tome back into his bag and dropped his things off in a larger carriage at the back of the train before making his way toward the main entrance. McGonagall was already there, looking at him pointedly as though he were late. He gave her a handsome smirk as the doors opened, and helped her greet each student kindly as they boarded the train.

Abraxas bowed his head slightly as he boarded the train, earning a nod from Tom. He was the last person to board, and McGonagall greeted him more kindly than either boy expected. As she hurried away, they shared an amused look, and followed behind her to get to the last cart. His Knights, as well as a few boys who hoped to gain his favor, had congregated in the pre-selected area. They cleared space as the pair made their way to their seats. Tom noticed his follower looking around for Granger, and smirked before whispering, "She isn't here, Malfoy. You'll see her at the feast."

With that, they sat back and listened as the others carried on. Tom liked Abraxas because he was a man of few words, preferring to listen and observe, much like himself. He made for spectacular company; as did the cousins Orion and Cygnus Black. The latter was more similar to Abraxas in his behavior, though he was easily friendlier and easier going, while the former was colder and more ruthless. Tom enjoyed Orion greatly for those reasons, often gravitating toward him when he did partake in unmentionable desires. Orion, unlike many of the others in his inner circle, had no problems sharing, which is why Tom took a few moments to openly study the witch sitting on his lap. He recognized her as a current Ravenclaw sixth year, from the Crouch family. She was one who was quite fond of Slytherin house, particularly the Blacks.

He tilted his head as he watched her giggle at something Orion whispered into her ear, her fingers ghosting over the chain around her neck. She wore her family emblem in white gold, and he found himself studying it in thought before resisting apparating to gates of Hogwarts and storming Miss Granger's room to get a better look at hers. He'd noticed that it wasn't a cross, and now believed she was at least half-blood, which had been his original thought. She had too much power to be a filthy Mudblood. It left him feeling better, and he sat in introspection for a while.

There wouldn't be an opportunity to speak with Abraxas until the next morning, which wasn't exactly a problem, but he'd hoped to know his position on the girl before the feast tonight. He would, no doubt, have her by his side again, as he'd meant it when he told her she'd join him for dinner from now on. Knowing she was at least half-blood made is easier for him to admit her beauty, and less worried about his followers no longer taking him seriously with a worthless witch beside him.

With his thoughts back on her, he decided he'd collect her upon arrival. Perhaps he could even convince her to wear her family emblem with pride. Having a snake falling between her breasts, pressed nicely against the green of their house would do quite nicely. The gold of the jewelry she'd like to wear always picked up the light prettily, the black of the diamonds holding it. If he was recalling correctly, even the _M _attached to the snake had a diamond in it. Yes, she's looked quite lovely beside him, indeed.

Satisfied that he'd been able to recall the emblem, he sat back and continued to listen to his followers. Idly, he decided it was quite odd to have a first initial on a family emblem, and found himself feeling as though ice water were just thrown on him. He knew from her door that her initials were a quartet of M's.

The remainder of his train ride was spent silently stewing, wishing she'd been forced to accompany them on the train. What he'd give to get his hands on her right now, particularly around her neck, where she'd been hiding another necklace. He wondered if it held more secrets to her identity. How had he missed this?

She was a little liar, after all.

.

.

When the Hogwarts Express finally stopped, he was off of it in an instant. Apparating to the castle gates, he shocked Slughorn, who'd just been getting there to great returning students. "Where is Miss Granger?" He asked angrily. The professor had barely stuttered out that she was heading down to the dungeons before the Head Boy was storming away. He made it to the commons just as she was coming down their staircase, ignoring her surprised exclamation as he shoved her into the wall. She looked incredibly nervous, which allowed his anger to deflate a bit.

"So," he started casually, "Miss _Granger_, is it?"

She was so tense under him that he didn't notice when Hermione calmed slightly. Okay, so he no longer believed her to be a Granger. She supposed that was good, as it wasn't exactly a pureblood name. So, what was the deal? Thinking about it, she felt him use his wand to fish the long gold chain, out of her Slytherin robes, letting it slide down the tip until he got to the emblem. Oh. _Oh._

Hermione froze instantly, her heart skipping a beat in her chest at the realization. How had she and Dumbledore missed this? She walked into her room multiple times a day! Eyes widening and hands gripping at her robes, she hoped the raw emotions were at least convincing. It wasn't the end of the world that he fond out. He would have eventually, though she'd hoped she'd have longer. Had Malfoy even gotten the opportunity to _explain_? It wasn't likely.

She would have cursed the castle for its intelligence if the quartet of M's were actually her name. Instead, it'd solidified her role, as though she were _actually _Mimi Medusa Medora Montague. Angrily, she realized this wasn't the time to think of such things. For all intents and purposes, she was a Montague under the guise of Granger, and she wouldn't feel guilty about anything except trying to protect herself. Forcing herself to accept this, finally, would do her some good.

"I believe we are both aware of my name, Monsieur Riddle."

"Yes. It's curious, really, that your name plate has no G on it."

"Would you believe me if I said the initials were that of my married name?" Hermione was purposely stalling, as though to seem like she was hiding something of greater value. She hoped and prayed to every god and deity that he'd believe this one thing. If anything, his disbelief in her so far could help her now. This 'mistake' could also help Malfoy, who'd no doubt tell Riddle by the end of the night, now. The only question now was whether she should spill the beans herself, and let Abraxas solidify her story, or if she should avoid answering in questions, allowing fear to cloud her eyes and shake her body, giving his follower the chance to gain more favor. The latter would be beneficial. He wasn't a fan of weakness, but she'd been so fearless since her arrival. Surely, someone somewhere was expecting a breakdown.

He tilted his head in observation. She really hadn't noticed the difference between the door and who she claimed to be. Perhaps she had too much on her mind? Still, everyone was fool to believe they could deceive the castle. Finally, as he noticed her trembling and avoiding his eyes, he spoke. "You don't wear a ring."

"He i_z _dead."

"I keep things of sentimental value."

Hermione filed that away for further knowledge. She knew that he liked things of value, but keeping them went against anything she'd known about him. Where on earth would he have kept them? He didn't have his own residence in her proper time. Maybe in his Muggle father's house? Presently, she resisted laughing at the thought. No. He most definitely didn't do that. Had she…had she been the one to stop him from keeping sentimental objects? _Oh god, _she thought, her body shuttering. But no, he wasn't capable of holding value in anything other than himself. If he'd stopping keeping things, it wasn't something that anyone else had done. She hoped.

She looked away, figdeting. "I can not tell you, Monsieur Riddle. 'e will find me," her eyes widened with contagious fear, which pissed him off. Why should he be afraid of Grindelwald finding her? It'd be good for him to do away with the distraction.

He leaned closer, his breathing ghosting over her skin. "Your first mistake was leaving Beauxbatons. Things were going so well for you there, Miss _Granger. _And with your interests," he laughed bitterly as she frowned, "yes, I've seen your dark tomes. Heavy stuff, horcruxes." He reveled in her quick look at him, feeling as though he'd caught her red-handed.

"Durmstrang would have done you some good, much more than Hogwarts. Access to the Dark Arts should have interested you greatly. _But_, you're afraid of Grindelwald. Why, ma Cherie? Surely, you'll be liberated from whatever you're hiding from if you join him. He could teach you as well," Riddle pulled away, opting to stand close to her in the cool dungeons. He left one hand against the stone, keeping her in place. "If you're worried about what Uncle Albus will say, then you must not know he'd been a supporter of old Waldy at the very beginning. I doubt he'd hold your curiosity against you. What was that you said to me? Know thy enemy." His smirk was wicked.

"He killed my family. I won't join 'im."

At the venom in her whisper, he had to resist attempting to convince her to join him. He could turn her hate into passion, passion to power (combining what he could teach her with what he knew about her made her suddenly very attractive). Maybe later. Instead, he asked, "Who are you?"

Tears filled her eyes, and he scowled. What the hell had gotten into her? Where had her fight and bite gone? Was she really that afraid?

"I'm a Montague," she mumbled, rubbing fiercely at her checks. It wasn't a name he recognized, but her earlier confidence paired with the sudden fear of being discovered made it clear they were valuable. "The last Montague."

"Are you pure?"

She looked up at him, the fire in her eyes back. She was offended that he even had to ask. "You would do well to learn some 'istory, Monsieur."

Gripping her arm, he pulled her up the stairs and toward her door. It was a rash decision, showing slight mercy. But he couldn't deny someone hell bent on self-preservation. It was something he understood. With a wave of his wand, he charmed the placard to say Mimi. Tugging her back down the hall, he charmed his door to say Tom without a second thought, and continued to pull her out if the commons and toward the staircase to the Great Hall. Just before they cleared the staircase, he turned and tucked the emblem back into her robes.

"Be good tonight, and perhaps you'll have nothing to fear."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I was forced to do a few things this chapter, aging McGonagall up was one of them. I don't really have a definite reason for this, I just really needed her to by my Head Girl. Also, the only other major thing I did was push the creation of the Knights of Walpurgis up (as many time travel fic authors do). Sorry its pretty short, hopefully it was at least enjoyable! (:

A very big thank you to everyone who has reviewed. It means to much to read them and know you all are enjoying this! Also, thank you to everyone who has followed or favorited (as well as those simply reading along, I see you!). All of this really encourages me to update more often than I really ever planned to.

I have two specific replies this go round. To the Guest reviewer, you're right! There was a Montague as the chaser on the Slytherin team. Let's just ignore that for now ^-^

And to Atlantean Diva, I'm really happy you picked up on that! Buuut, I think it may just be Snape being a gentleman... ;D Also, neurotic Hermione sets me really on edge, so I'm hoping to keep her away from that. Thank you!


	5. Sanctuary

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is this amazing world is my own.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Hermione stood with the Head Boy and Girl as the returning students filed in. She wasn't quite sure why she needed to be introduced, but she went along with the plan without question, not wanting to do anything to further upset Riddle. While he didn't appear to be visibly angry with her –though, she was sure she'd have the imprint of his hand on her upper arm from his dragging her through the castle-, she knew he was also the king of composure, when the situation called for it. It was interesting, really, how a teenager could be so in control of their outward demeanor.

Beside her, McGonagall stood tall and proud in her Gryffindor red robes, the gold of her tie peaking out and picking up the coloring in her cheeks. Hermione found that she quite like the custom of being able to wear a slightly different uniform as a seventh year (the skirt and blouse were still standard, but they didn't have to wear the typical black robes; they could mix it up with robes in their house color, and girls could wear shoes with a bit of a heel to them), and wished that they'd kept it for her time. Although she was slightly loathe wearing Slytherin colors, she knew she would spend plenty of time in rich and velvety greens –it helped that the color brought out the undertones of her skin, giving her a warmer, friendlier look.

Glancing at Riddle, she noted that he had his hands clasped behind his back and feet positioned hips width a part, giving him the look of a warrior prince. He was also wearing colored robes over his black slacks and shirt, and she noted that he'd gotten a haircut sometime between yesterday morning and now. It was upsetting, how attractive he was, especially the smirk that tugged his lips when he realized she was studying him. Scowling, she turned away just in time to see Abraxas walk in.

He smiled handsomely at her, waving, and beside him a curly-haired boy sent a curious look and polite nod. They both had Prefect badges on their robes as they lead the group of Slytherin second years in, directing them to their designated area of the table and helping them get settled. As she watched the pair sit down in their respective seats, Hermione was struck with her first bit of house pride (and envy, if she were honest). She hadn't studied the Slytherin's of her time, but she knew that she'd never known any house to look after the younger years like that. Of course, it was common knowledge that they looked out for each other in this house, she simply hadn't gotten the opportunity to see, or feel, it.

As the doors closed, Headmaster Dippet rose from his seat and stood before the podium. The trio turned to him, listening as he greeted the students and reassured them of their safety within the grounds; even in this time, parents were fearful of having their children leaving home. Hermione sighed, folding her arms over her chest as though they could protect her from the slight sadness that seeped into her, wondering if it'd ever be safe for children to just learn. Was it such a hard thing to ask for?

At the end of his five-minute spew, he introduced the Heads with pride before straightening up and glancing at Hermione fondly. "Finally," he announced in a softer tone, "I'd like to introduce a new student." Dippet paused as the students began to whisper, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. Anyone who read the _Daily Prophet _knew that she was at the castle, and would be finishing her schooling there. Was it really necessary to gossip about it? Behind her, she heard Riddle chuckle.

Instantly, she froze. The deep, throaty sound seemed to glide over her skin, soaking into her core in a way that made her uncomfortable.

"-and a relative of our Professor Dumbledore. Mimi Granger, please step forward," Dippet smiled encouragingly and McGonagall gave her a nudge. Having missed absolutely everything he said, the young witch smiled thankfully at the nudge and stepped up a few steps so that her new classmates could get a look at her. She allowed her eyes to stray over every house, realizing she could pick out a few relatives of people in her proper time. However, her eyes were drawn instantly to the Head Boy, who stood smirking at her with an expression she couldn't make out. When their eyes met, he nodded as though he hadn't just jacked her up. The presence of the rest of the school just seemed to magnify the he was the only person truly familiar in a sea of kids, way more than Hogwarts had in her day. It wasn't comforting. And, anyway, did everything about him have to be so unbearably attractive?

"She'll be a part of Slytherin house, whom I'm sure are happy to have her," Dippet informed through uncouth hoots and cheers. Hermione smiled toothlessly at them, eyes alight with mystery as the rest of the houses eyed her curiously. Riddle offered her his hand as she stepped down, and she looked him up and down discreetly before graciously taking it.

"Good girl," he murmured as he led her to the table. Instead of continuing down toward the other seventh years, he helped her to sit down by the second years, placing her closest to them before sitting down on her left. It was an interesting, but she understood the action. He wanted those joining the house to know not only who was in charge, but feel comfortable enough to trust and come to him. She wondered if this was a custom of Slytherin or something he'd decided to do, and decided to ask. The look he gave her, an almost wide-eyed expression that made him look younger, drew color to her cheeks.

"McGonagall sat down with her friends, an _z_e other tables seem to group together by age or clique. It is only a question, Monsieur. It i_z _admirable that you make an effort to know your house."

The corners of his lips quirked up as though he wanted to actually smile, and his back straightened with pride. It was a nice sight, she decided, seeing him take pride in something built by another…even if it happened to be his ancestor. "We take care of own over here, Miss Granger. You'll soon see."

"I thought you said I'd see how accommodating we are toward mongrels, Monsieur. It i_z_ very con-de-says…ing?" She frowned with confusion, and looked to him for help. She almost patted her back at the quick look of surprise in his eyes at her needing help. It had been a quick decision, but she knew that asking people for things, pens or small assistance, made them feel important. Obviously, Tom Riddle was no different.

Again, he chuckled, and she couldn't help tense. Even with the realization moments before, he was still too human for her sometimes. Him reacting in a way one of her friends would was incredibly unsettling, and she wasn't quite sure how to react. "Condescending," he smirked, "though I believe you mean contradicting."

"Oui, oui," she looked away and blushed prettily, feeling quite happy with herself. She'd benefit from his kindness for as long as he allowed it. In fact, she'd press her luck and continue to be sweet on him through out dinner. She could be good all right, and he'd drown in it before the night was out. Starting small, she whispered, "You are nice as 'ead boy, Monsieur."

Under the table, he clasped her wrist, rubbing his thumb over her pulse point harshly. "What are you doing, Granger?" He spat just as lowly, managing to keep his face open and friendly as the first years filed in.

She would have thought them cute if his grip hadn't been bruise forming. Instead, she played the innocent card. "I'm just being honest, Monsieur." Looking up at him, Hermione smiled softly, "Kindness 'elps people trust you. It i_z_ beneficial in making friends…or you know, whatever." She shrugged, extracting her wrist carefully.

"Are you giving me tips?" He asked, clearly amused.

"I'm hoping to influence you," she gave him a humored look as he tensed. "You know my secret, and I could use _un ami_." Patting his thigh, Hermione let her eyes focus on the Sorting. It was longer than any she'd seen before, and by the end of it her stomach was rumbling. During a lull, she whispered in French as she patted it. Beside her, the second year sputtered, laughing, earning a glare from Riddle and a smile from Hermione as Dippet resumed talking.

"The feast should start soon," the younger wizard informed her quietly. "There were more first years than usual this year." It was true; Slytherin alone had gained 37 students.

She smiled her thanks as the feast appeared before them. Trinkets appeared on the plates of the first years, shocking the new members of Slytherin excitedly. Little green snakes of jade slithered around their empty dishes, striking at them viciously with tiny silver fangs before repeating the action. As one appeared on Hermione's plate, she laughed delightedly, her voice carrying and redrawing attention. She let her fingers cut off the routine, allowing it to slither up her right middle digit and watching as it consumed it's own tail, becoming a ring. Admiring it as the younger students caught on, she looked up to find Riddle watching her with a small smirk.

"You caught on quickly."

She gave him a smile, stroking the ring thoughtfully, "It i_z_ not very nice to give children objects infused with _Magie Noire_."

Luckily, no one seemed to here her. It wasn't something they caught on to until their fourth year, when their personal interest in the Dark Arts grew, so he wasn't surprised that she'd figured it out so quickly. She studied enough to be more than proficient in the art. "No harm, no foul," he spoke lowly before turning his attention to his new first years.

Neither noticed, but Professor Dumbledore had been watching them carefully since their joining the table.

As Hermione filled her plate, the witch across from her leaned over, feeling it was appropriate to slide a tiny package across the table. Observing her, Hermione realized she was a Greengrass. Her hair was so blonde it was white, eyes icy under her barely there lashes, and she had an interesting look about her, as though she was born a few years before her time. The older witch silently began to panic, as she'd never really considered whether or not she actually looked like she belonged in 1944. It had never come up in conversation with anyone. Perhaps, it was why Riddle had a problem trusting her to begin with? It would do her no good. She glanced up to the Head table and caught Dumbledore's eye; she'd have to see him tonight, to see if there was anything they could do about it.

"Welcome to Slytherin," the Greengrass whispered, drawing her attention back to their table. Reaching out, she grasped the little box and thanked the girl. Opening into, she realized she'd been gifted an assortment of hair ties in their house colors. Sorting through carefully, Hermione found and tied a green and silver ribbon to the end of her French braid, allowing it to fall over her shoulder visibly. Smiling largely, she tucked in.

The nod of approval from Riddle went unobserved.

.

.

Later that evening, after Slughorn had come to give them a pep talk, followed by some group counseling from the Head Boy and his Prefects, Hermione slipped out of the commons and in hopes to make it to her rooms to prepare for her meeting with Dumbledore. She anticipated spending quite a bit of time with him to discuss her actually telling Riddle her secret; it had, after all, been a rash decision on her part. There just hadn't really been anytime to think it through. She'd greatly miscalculated, and now she wasn't sure of the repercussions. Would Riddle be able to keep her secret? She'd taken her time with Abraxas to stress how important it was to keep her true identity a secret, and he'd taken a Wizarding oath to it. No doubt the future Dark Lord wouldn't be so accommodating. She'd definitely put the ball in his court with this one.

"Miss Granger," someone called, and she turned around to find the young man who'd been with Malfoy at the feast smiling kindly at her. It struck her, quite painfully, that he was related to Sirius. She hadn't grown close to him in her time, as they hadn't had very much time to, but he'd showed her how to access the second library in the house, where the Black family kept their more prized books. The soft spot she formed for him had been instantly, especially because of the way he looked at Harry, as though her were the entire world. Desperately, she hoped the person before was Alphard, who'd been blasted off the family tree for leaving gold to Sirius, rather than Orion or Cygnus. But, Hermione's luck had seemed to of run short.

"Cygnus Black," he kissed her offered hand, "it's very lovely to met you."

"Like wise, monsieur. I noticed you with Monsieur Malfoy at the feast. It was so kind of you to 'elp the young ones like that."

Before he could reply, Abraxas appeared, hugging the young witch before smiling cheekily at his friend. "You already trying to dishonor Mimi, Black?" He asked, teasingly.

He tilted his head, "I didn't realize you two were on a first name basis. That's," Cygnus paused to consider the right word, but settled for, "interesting."

"Don't take anything Cy says seriously, Mimi. He's our resident Gryffindor," Abraxas informed teasingly.

The pair started wrestling playfully, causing Hermione to step back cautiously, glancing around. The commons were pointedly clear, save for a group of seventh year wizards, likely Knights, and a few witches. They were more relaxed then they'd been in the Great Hall, watching Abraxas and Cygnus with mirth, but she noticed that they still seemed uncomfortable. Briefly, she wondered if it was because she was still there, before deciding that Slytherin's were just inherently stuffy people.

"This is hardly becoming behavior," Riddle appeared beside Hermione, looking down at the pair. They stopped instantly, looking up at a clearly shocked Head Boy. "Fisticuffs in front of a lady?" He tutted lowly, watching as they got up and straightened themselves out. "And from such noble purebloods."

Hermione, though, was smiling pleasantly. Their playfulness was out of character, but made her feel warm inside. In fact, she wished Riddle hadn't stopped them. The happiness in their eyes was fading, despite the color that flush of their face holding strong. Remaining in character, she whispered that she loved the English, earning a handsome one from Abraxas and a goofy smile from Black, which surprised her.

Riddle was clearly unamused, "You have some business to attend to, don't you, Miss Granger?" He gripped her elbow and began to steer her to their staircase.

"I'd much prefer to meet your friends, Monsieur."

His grip tightened and he shoved her lightly into the stairs, "Perhaps later." Leaning in, he murmured, "Though I'm not one to reward bad behavior."

She frowned, "What d_ee_dI do?"

He simply smirked and walked away, and she trudged up the steps to change. She considered Cygnus during that time, reminding herself that he was Bellatrix and Narcissa's father. He'd seemed so carefree presently, what one earth had changed to cause him to raised such stiff and crazed daughters?

A small meow came from her bed, distracting Hermione briefly. She fished the wizard-breed Siamese kitten out from under the covers and cuddled him to her chest. He accepted happily, nuzzling her neck with a low purr. She'd only picked him up a few days ago, while out to dinner with Dumbledore, and hadn't been able to determine a name for him, but the more time he spent allowing her to cuddle him left her feeling closer to a decision. It wasn't exactly one of the more pressing things on her agenda.

When he became restless, she let him back down on the bed, and sorted through her closet for something to wear. Being the perfect French witch of the 1940s was growing tiring, she decided on a look that made her look more Brady Bunch than anything else; however, she knew that these styles were grower popular, and the French were always before their time. Before leaving the quiet of her room, she threw on a casual, but long evening cloak. The grey of her scarf and oxfords peaked out, and she thought it looked quite charming before dipping out of her rooms and the commons.

Without the warmth of the Gryffindor commons, she was freezing cold anywhere she went in the castle, and found herself compensating by adding layers of clothing. Even with everything she had on, she found herself pressing her journal and clean quill to her chest as she trudged up the stairs, attempting to keep in her body heat. It was barely even September, and she worried about what it would feel like by October or January. Shuttering, she humored herself by decided she was turning into her house mascot, and considered where to by the Wizarding equivalent to a heat lamp as she made her way to Dumbledore's personal rooms.

.

.

Two hours later found Hermione wilting away in Dumbledore's office.

She'd more or less taken it over; her cloak tossed over one chair while she lounged in the other, obviously exhausted but unwilling to stop thinking. The older wizard had set up a little table beside her, where her quill and ink lay beside the journal and an inky, steaming teacup, so that she could work undeterred. Her fingers were also covered in purple ink, proof of her busy thoughts and a hopeful harbinger of success.

Eyes closed and legs stretched out before her, Dumbledore took the time to observe her, conscious of her worries that she didn't quite fit in with the rest of the girls in her house, or the school, for that matter. She'd made a convincing argument as to why they should do something the fix this, especially considering he was a Transfiguration Master, and he thought it quite tempting to tweak her, just a bit. But, with all of Wizarding Britain already well aware of her looks, it would be too risky. Instead, he encouraged her to take note of the beauty habits of her fellow Slytherin ladies. He'd also ordered a Witches magazine from France to be delivered for her every week, to keep her up to date on the trends of the country she was supposedly from.

With that thought, he decided it all right that her style looked, in her own words, 'like Marsha Brady,' although he had no idea who Marsha was. She'd seemed almost angry about it, but her obvious comfort made him think otherwise, writing it off as a manifestation of her missing her proper time. With the Montague's being a known Italian family, and having grown up French, he knew that the Malfoy and Tom wouldn't give second thought to her clothing choices out of school robes. Both countries had always been more risqué and advanced in their style, after all.

Her eyes popped open with a start, and he smiled kindly at her. "A sickle for your thoughts?"

"I'm flirting with fire."

He nodded understandably. She'd expressed having felt like she'd screwed everything up, as she hadn't been prepared for Riddle's hot and cold personality. Dumbledore wanted to tell her he thought he was doing quite well, as he'd never seen the boy voluntarily spend time with anyone who didn't benefit him. From what she'd explained, she wasn't much more than thorn in his side at this point, but she'd done something right at least.

"You two looked cozy during the feast," he allowed.

Hermione laughed heartily, sitting up and lacing her fingers in her lap. "Oh yes, we spent the time sharing warm fuzzies." She spent a few more moments laughing, as though she'd forgotten was it was like, and then reached for her tea. "Am I taking myself too seriously?" Her voice was quiet after she sipped her tea.

"This is a very serious task you've been given."

"Yes, I know. I just, I know it's barely even been a week, and I've made considerable progress at least, but I just feel like maybe he knows," she sighed. "Not that I'm here from the 90s or anything, but that there's more to it. What Abraxas will tell him is going to help, but it's like he suspects me of something more. He's smart, Professor. I wouldn't put it past him to figure out."

"He hasn't, and if he begins to suspect something closer to the truth, we'll fix that. Do not worry, my dear. I'm here for you."

"Would you still be here if I started to practice?" She didn't have to say Dark Arts.

"I'll keep it from consuming you." His voice had a time of finality to it that pacified Hermione, making her feel better instantly.

A small smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you." They both finished their tea in silence, and she politely declined another cup. Cleaning up her things, she thought about asking Dumbledore about Grindelwald. Had he really supported him originally? Had he really believed that Muggles should be subservient? Did he still? He was just too kind a man to even imagine wanting to rule over others because of their lack of magic.

She forced herself to remember that he was Pureblood. No matter how kind or loving, they would always believe Muggles to be below them in some way. It was likely Muggles would think of Wizards as second-class citizens as well. It was normal to be fearful of things you couldn't relate to. Instead of voicing any of this, she fastened her cloak around her shoulders and turned to him while adjusting her scarf. He looked curiously at all of her close, but didn't mention it. She hoped no one else would, but remembered that Fleur had complained of the castle being far too cold, and decided she'd use Beauxbatons extreme warmth as her excuse. She was in the dungeons, after all. That type of chill hit the bones.

"What are we going to do about Grindelwald?" She asked as she magicked her quill clean.

The old wizard was obviously shocked by her question, and took a second before replying, "Don't worry about him, my dear. You focus on your wizard; I'll focus on mine."

His wording made her suspicious, but she gathered her things and bid him farewell, both wishing the other a good start of term.

.

.

Riddle was sitting in Hermione's room when she returned.

She froze in the doorway, shocked to find him half-laying on her bed, petting her kitten with one hand while he used the other to read from a French-to-English Ancient Potions book. He leaned his head to the side when he heard her, peaking out from behind the text, and frowned.

"I didn't know you had trouble reading English," he said by way of greeting, as though it was normal for him to be in her rooms. She supposed that it was, considering how often he broke in.

Studying him, she decided that she wasn't in any immediate danger, and moved to sit on her bench. "I do not." It was the truth; she'd actually purchased the book to brush up on her academic French. "But Potions is a dangerous subject to make mistakes in."

He observed her for a moment. "And you have a familiar." She frowned at him for stating the obvious. "I hate cats. They're worthless," he contradicted his statement by scratching the Siamese's ears.

"Why do you break into my rooms?" She shrugged out of her cloak and instantly felt his eyes taking her in. It was his first time seeing her out of a blazer/trouser duo.

"You live too close for comfort," he shrugged and set the book aside before sitting up. "You're also living a lie."

Her hopes of him leaving soon were squashed as he moved the sit down in the chair she'd transfigured into a couch and placed it by the glass wall. The cat followed him, and although he scowled, he let it lie pressed against his leg.

"You want me to tell you about _ma famille_."

He smirked at her, absently rubbing at the feline. She reminded herself not to think about how homely he looked reading in he bed with the kitten. He tried to murder to a baby. He wasn't homely at all.

"Your little minion already told me."

"The kitten?" She asked, frowning with confusion.

He chuckled, and she wondered how often he actually did that a day. "No, ma Cherie. Malfoy."

She smiled fondly, "Oh, oui. Do you seek his guidance often?"

He scowled at her, patting the couch. The gesture combined with the look forced Hermione to move, much to her dismay. Settling beside him, she realized he wasn't exactly mad. He was more curious if anything, if a little peeved about her stab. Deciding that she wanted him happy with her from now on, she smiled softly and added, "It is intelligent. 'e and the Blacks are knowledgeable. They can get you far."

He judged her words, allowing the silence to sit between them for a minute. During that time, she relaxed into cushions, her shoulder pressing against his arm. She could have moved over, but his warmth felt nice. "You think I need them to succeed."

"There i_z_ nothing wrong with attaching yourself to powerful people." She rubbed her eyes. Honestly, it was too late to have this conversation with him. Hermione told him so and he patted her knee in response, standing up.

"Come with me," he offered her his hand. After a second's hesitation, she took it. "Good girl," he murmured, just as he said earlier, before leading her out of the room. The reassurance was pleasing and upsetting, understandably. They wound up in a classroom, and he gestured for her to sit down at a desk. He took the seat beside her.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked at a whisper, looking straight ahead. He sat with his legs apart, hands clasped in his lap, head slightly bent in concentration.

"I don't want to die," she replied in voice even quieter than his. _Gods, _she thought, _are we having this conversation now?_

She could have sworn he laughed. "We have something in common, then," he swallowed. "Neither do I."

Hermione resisted turning to look as him. That had been a heavy thing to admit to a near stranger. She supposed he planned on keeping her closer now that he knew, but **that **close? She'd need a stiff drink after this. However, instead of freaking out, she looked down at her hands and picked at a nail. "I don't think he knows a Montague still lives, but…my father wronged him too greatly to let it rest, if he were to find out. That's why I go by Granger."

This time, the silence was heavy. She knew he wasn't sure what to do with that information, and wondered if he'd ask all of his questions now or later. Did he even have questions? Or had Abraxas explained it thoroughly enough? She'd have to come up with a way to thank him.

"What did he do?"

Hermione hesitated. No one really know what the Montague's had done to be killed, but it was common knowledge that Massimo had denied Grindelwald. She couldn't say they threatened to leave him, because Dumbledore _had _left. Finally deciding on an appropriate response, she forced herself to remember to write it down and then burn it when she got back to her room. "I am not sure, Monsieur. Papa killed Grindelwald's _maman_, and 'e retaliated by killing us."

She was thankful he didn't mention her not being dead, and supposed it was because he was attempting to sympathize. This time, the silence was thoughtful.

"Myrine's Necklace. May I see it?" His politeness shocked her, but it was genuine. She couldn't say no. Besides, if this went the way it should, she'd get a lot more from him. His eyes fell onto her slowly.

She cast _revelio_, but didn't turn to him. The weight of his hand brushed her scarf away, fingers gliding over her skin and the gems. Annoyingly, his touch warmed her, and she wondered if there was a potion to take to get thicker skin.

"C'est magnifique, non?" She asked. Her voice was loud in the silence of the room, seeming to bounce off every surface and come back to them.

"Quite," his index finger rubbed her jaw before she pulled away, recasting the charm and adjusting her scarf. "I have one question, for now," he waited for her attention. "Do you want him dead or alive?"

She looked at him quickly. "Monsieur Riddle, I don't understand."

He turned his body to face her, and she wished desperately she could know what was going through his mind. Where was his chattiness? His slip ups? She kept her eyes wide and guarded as they looked at each other, deciding not to attempt to enter his mind. He'd notice right now.

"I could kill him, or I could bring him to you," he patted her leg when her eyes widened in shock

"Oh, Monsieur," she was shaking her head, seemingly in fear. Honestly, she was a bit afraid. Why on earth did Tom Riddle want to kill Grindelwald? Sure, getting rid of another dark lord would be beneficial, but why now? When he knew what he'd done? She bit her lip at the thought of changing history. _You mustn't worry about changing history, _the older Dumbledore's voice rang in her head, _what's done is done._

"Think on it." He studied her for a moment, "Taking a life can change everything for you, ma Cherie." He got up, straightening his tie.

When he was through, it was as though they'd never had the conversation. "I want you to know I'm fair. You keep my secret, I'll keep yours."

His smirk was almost a smile as he offered his hand to her. She kept her eyes on him curiously as he helped her up and back to the House. They walked up their staircase together, stopping short at the sitting room door. He opened it and gestured for her to enter first.

With a hand at the small of her back, he let his eyes drift from the witch to his Knights, "I'd like for you all to officially meet Mademoiselle Mimi Granger. She joins us from France."

Hermione watched as they raised their glasses towards her, genuine smiles on their faces. The Black she knew looked ready to gather her in a hug, despite not knowing her very well, and she gave him a small nod of acknowledgment that only seemed to make him more eager. Instead of focusing on him, she let her eyes slide over those in the room. They all appeared to be between sixth and seventh years, mainly young men. There were a few girls, though; one favored Bellatrix greatly, and another that had to be Snape's mother. It was unsettling to see how popular he was before he even left school. There were only Purebloods in the room, twenty by her count, which meant that he had more than half of the _Sacred 28_ under his thumb. She realized she wasn't quite sure how the Order managed to have so much power in her present time, with odds like these to precede them.

Still, she let her shyness linger only a moment before smiling softly and raising her chin with confidence that caused the wizard beside her to swell with pride. He moved her into the room, offering her a glass of champagne before thinking twice about it. Summoning a steam-less glass and a bottle of wine, he poured it himself before offering it to her. She took white and waited until he had a class of Fire Whiskey to take a sip, their eyes on each other the entire time.

He smirked and she blushed as they made their way over to Malfoy. She was loath to admit she was thankful for him starting with someone she knew. Just before they reached him, he leaned in, and his breath ghosted over the shell of her ear.

"You'll be safe here, Miss Granger."

_Yeah, right._

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry about how awkward the Black/Granger/Malfoy dialogue was. Next round will read more smoothly between them. Hopefully everyone enjoys this, though (: I liked the final, honestly. I'd been waiting to write out a softer scene between them _forever_. I'll admit he's OOC here, but hopefully I've established that his personality is flighty, at best. (;

It's incredible to see this kind of response (whether it be in follows/favs/visitors/reviews), especially considering how 'young' the story is. Again, please know that it really means the world to me! I'm struggling with how to respond to reviews, so I just want to send a major thank you to all of you before doing so (it's irrational, but seeing groups of user names drives me crazy. Right now my idea is turn them into initials, so I'm hoping it'll be clear).

AD: I love the idea of Tom having it bad ^-^ I like to think he's dealing with having someone his own age, who could very much be as close to his equal as he's going to get(therefore not interested in submitting), suddenly thrust into his life. Also, she has to charm them! Goodness, the whole story will go to shit if she doesn't (:

KR: He wasn't fooled (: We all know Tom is sharper than that. I've always thought him to be a fundamentally curious character, so let's just see how much interest he takes after speaking with Abraxas.

NK: I'm glad to hear it! Thanks for reading (:

AtLK: (Idk, I feel like we go wayyy back.) Thank you, thank you, thank you! Going full circle would be amazing, but a job I'm so not prepared for. It'll all clear up by the end, though (: I'm hoping to draw everyone to the dark side, so the lure toward the Dark Arts better feel strong! Kidding..I think. Anyhow, I'm glad you're enjoying this.

Again, thank you! _Happy Halloween!_


	6. Loyalty

**Disclaimer**: This lovely world belongs to JK Rowling and those affiliated.

*If you got an update alert, sorry! Atlantean Diva pointed out that I made the skirts shorter, and it needed to be corrected. I apologize for any confusion, they are a little longer (:

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Hermione didn't sleep that night. She knew it would have been impossible after her conversation with Riddle, but after unofficially meeting his Knights, it was absolutely out of the question.

The people she'd left in the sitting room were killers. Cold-blooded, likely psychopathic, murders…and they liked her. They actually liked her. Once Abraxas had laughed jovially with her, which she sensed was out of character and therefore a big deal, the feel of the room changed. It was subtle, in the way that everything Slytherin was, but she felt it as though it touched her. It was like their magic no longer sensed her as a threat. She knew that the type of influence Malfoy's had in her time took time to build, but it was shocking to see they had it even now. It benefitted her greatly.

Sighing, she rolled over in bed to find the kitten sitting beside her, as though he'd sensed her discomfort. Reaching out, she scratched his ears and felt his purr more than she heard it. Thoughts seemed to swell in her head, fighting for dominance and consideration. Sitting up, she let the Siamese crawl and curl into her lap while she attempted to get some order to her brain.

First things first, she would thank Abraxas. As she wasn't quite sure what on earth a man of this age liked, she decided on something her time considered classic. A dragon skin journal and handsome quill, for starters. An assortment of French cigars seemed practical, since she was French and he was a smoker, but she would need Dumbledore's assistance with that. She also considered a nice pair of gloves, but decided that she would much prefer to get the ever-stuffy Riddle gloves, because they matched his boring personality. (Although, she wasn't quite sure why she was considering getting him anything at all.)

With that covered, she moved on to determining a way to deal with actually being a Slytherin, and in turn how to deal with her housemates. The hat wouldn't have put her there if she hadn't at least been a little prepared, so she wasn't worried about having to think quick on her feet or screwing up supremely, she just had to remember that she was Mimi Granger, nee Montague, and everything would go smoothly on the front. She knew herself to be a bit swotty and pretentious, though she didn't like admitting the latter, so adding racist to the list would be her only major focus (which was supremely beyond an odd thing to do). However, it was hard to determine how far to take it. She'd been quite rude with Riddle in the beginning, but with the tone she'd used she considered it to seem more like ignorance and less like stabs. It wouldn't be beneficial to continue on like that, because she was a lady at the end of the day. Seeming without couth would make her seem like she wasn't pure at all, and she'd rather not be labeled as a blood traitor in this house. For some reason, only the men could be excused of their lack of manners, which was more then upsetting. She was happy to note that everyone she'd met tonight seemed to be the perfect gentlemen, even if they would later prove to be ignorant killing machines.

Focusing on the Black Lake, Hermione decided that she would embody Fleur Delacour, and that was that. She was a witch that managed to get everyone around her thin, little fingers, and all Hermione wanted was for Riddle's followers to love her to desperately that he couldn't help but do the same. Fortunately, simply being a pretty, foreign witch helped her greatly. It was hard for men to ignore the lure of mystery. She wasn't sure if the females were actually Knights, or simply powerful witches he respected, but she didn't want to spend much time thinking about them, anyway. Making friends with women had never been something she was good at, unfortunately.

Moving on to what to do about Riddle, Hermione found herself in the deepest depths of square one. Thankfully, she now knew what type of behavior to expect from him. Snape had been right to tell her he was very powerful at this age (she hadn't gotten the chance to see him truly use magic, but with so many followers, it was obvious he had no only quite a bit of his own, but underneath his guidance as well), but he hadn't known that this version of the Dark Lord would still be struggling with being a teenager. His hot and cold personality was either the result of a personality disorder, which she wouldn't rule out, or his hormones. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't seem to figure out if he wanted to hate her or have sex with her.

It was very upsetting to admit, but Hermione was happy he was struggling with this, because she was, too. She was quite sure it would be very easy for her to do both, if it came to that. But she couldn't lie to herself and admit she was hoping it would come to that. In fact, she was hoping it wouldn't, because being that intimate with someone in such close contact forces you to not only grasp at who they are, but why they are. The very last thing she ever wanted in this life was to understand why Voldemort became the person he was in her time, because than that would mean she'd come to understand him. And understanding someone was the first step to no longer hating them.

So, she could either hold him at arms length for as long as possible, or she could follow his lead. While she was sure she'd be forced to follow his lead before long, she decided that she would remain distant for as long as possible, which meant not seeking him out or questioning him. She would do as he'd asked, and when he finally seemed like he would explode with her lack of need for and interest in him, she'd sink her teeth in.

Slowly and gently, of course. There was no need for him to get suspicious, not when he'd finally gotten curious.

Smiling at her own success, she set the sleepy kitten to the side and got up to get showered and dressed for the day. As it was the first day of classes, she slipped on an a-line black skirt and grey top, a green crosstie at her collar. Noticing that the skirt was a bit longer than those of her time, she tugged on a pair of black stockings before her flats. Studying herself, she decided that while the uniform hadn't changed significantly, the one girls wore in her proper time had more of a conservative, less stylish feel. Today, she felt quite pretty, rather than dumpy, as she threaded her wet hair into the standard French braid, fastening it with one of the silver ribbons she was gifted. Although it was still too early to leave for breakfast, she double-checked her schedule before packing her schoolbag and heading to the sitting room.

She got in a solid hour of reading before heavy steps echoed through the door. Curiously, the witch looked up in time to see Orion Black poke his head in and glance around. "My Lo-," he stepped inside when he saw her, "-ady. Lady Granger, good morning." He mimicked her smile, but did so very oddly, as though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Black," she set her book to the side, uncrossing her knees discreetly and folding her ankles. "Join me, I'll call for tea."

"I'm delighted," he spoke smoothly and moved through the room, his actions the embodiment of his tone. "I've already asked an elf for service."

Gathering that he was uncomfortable, likely because of almost slipping up, she broadened her smile to the one that she'd given Abraxas when they'd met. It helped him to relax slightly into his seat, the service appearing before them. She reached it before him, ignoring his gesture to take care of it.

"You and Cygnus are brothers?" She questioned, pouring the tea daintily. It was brewed strong, and the scent of cinnamon swirled around the room.

"First cousins, although being the same age- oh, two sugars please, no cream, thank you, Miss Granger- it does confuse people." He sipped his tea and took the small plate of fruit she offered him. "Do you have any siblings?"

She set her cup in the saucer and laced her fingers on her lap. "They are no longer with me." Sighing, Hermione thought of Ron and Harry in lieu of the brothers she was supposed to have. She did miss them quite a bit, despite the fact that it was easier not to think about them than it was Draco or Snape. The truth was that they'd all been given their respective tasks, and spent their summers a part, preparing for them. She'd missed them out of her system; regardless of the fact that she'd connected them to the brothers she supposedly mourned. It wasn't like her parents, whom she decided to live for, but it was close enough.

Frowning, she realized that in a twisted version of the truth, the lies she was living was the truth. It was one of the saddest things she'd ever realized. "I am not sad about eet anymore," she gave him a very little smile before reaching for her tea and taking another sip.

"I am sorry for asking, nonetheless. Please, forgive me." He took her nod as acceptance, and decided to question her about Beauxbatons and what is was like in France, with Grindelwald. Hermione grew worried at his increased interest about the French/Italian and French/German borders, but did her best to recall what history she knew while informing him that his questions were bothersome.

"Are you planning to join Grindelwald, Monsieur Black?"

A very serious look overcame his face, and he set his empty cup down while sitting up in the armchair. "The paper reads that he is holding strong along the borders, and in most of Germany. Soon, he'll be coming for England, Miss Granger. I don't wish to frighten you, gentle lady, but it is not often we get honesty from the French. Your insight is invaluable."

"That was no answer."

"You're rather bold, aren't you? Are French women encouraged to speak so freely, or is this a personal problem?"

Hermione resisted scowling, but couldn't stop squinting her eyes at the insult. Before she could make a stab of her own, Riddle made his presence known.

The Knight rose to his feet quickly, nodding respectably as his lord frowned, "That's not the way to speak to a lady, Black."

"Forgive me, Miss Granger. You're intelligence and knowledge on your country distracted my senses," he bowed slightly in her direction. As Riddle made himself a cup of tea, the former pair stared at each other icily.

"You're up early this morning, Miss Granger," Riddle spoke in a controlled tone that she recognized from last night. It wasn't quite the voice he used as Head Boy, but it was far from anything she'd heard from him during their time together. Briefly, she wondered if it was tiring, having so many sides, and decided that she would question him about it in the future. "Should I make it a point to include you in tea every morning?" He looked up at her curiously.

"Perhaps, when the company iz different, you may invite me."

He chuckled and sipped his tea, and she noticed Orion gritting his teeth. Again, she gave him a beautiful smile, and relaxed into the cushions more than she had before. The wizard beside her remained closer to the edge of the couch, but still near enough for her to feel his body heat. She realized that it was welcome. At some point, the small fire she'd stoked had gone out, and the warmth of the tea had finally left her. As though realizing it, he made her a fresh cup.

Feeling his eyes darting between the pair, Hermione decided now would be a good time to vocalize her support for a dark lord. She knew to tread carefully, as she didn't truly know about Riddle or his Knights. Although, it didn't take a genius to suspect something. Last night had been a puzzle piece that he purposely pushed into place.

"We are all sure of ourselves, Monsieur Black. The problem lies with the closed minds of this country. It iz likely you do not believe me capable of stimulating conversation and intelligence, but remember that your maman is the one who stayed home to raise and nurture you. Respectfully."

Black's eyes widened very slightly, very briefly. He looked between them, and Riddle chose the moment to pass her the fresh cup of tea. "You're Slytherin, Miss Granger, therefore I have no doubt that you are capable of stimulating conversation."

She sighed at the boring insult, and noticed Riddle look as Black oddly. However, with the other wizard's focus on her, he didn't pick up on it. Curiously, she wondered if this was out of character for Black, and was unsure as to whom she could ask. Belatedly, she refolded her ankles, allowing her knees to fall toward the Dark wizard but keeping her eyes on his follower.

"I would hope you're not planning to joining Grindelwald, Orion," Riddle sipped his tea, focusing in the teapot.

"'e is a weak wizard, who relies on common thugs and questionable families for support. Lucky for 'im, he was born with remarkable power. However, I am sure there are better politicians to put your faith in, if you must, Monsieur." She finished up her tea, and Riddle took the empty cup from her. "Smarter, surer. Educated, per'aps?" She shrugged and smoothed her hands over her skirt before rising.

Riddle and Black followed her up, ever the gentlemen, and she smiled politely at both of them. "See you both at breakfast," she spoke sweetly before slipping out of the room. Charming her door to open and close, she remained at the top of the steps for a few moments, listening.

"You like her," Riddle's voice accused.

"My lord, she is fresh air in the cellar."

Hermione grinned to herself as Riddle chuckled, and there was a slight pause before she heard the clunk of a heavy book on wood. Knowing it was hers, she cursed inwardly; it was okay for him to know about her reading habits, but she didn't need everyone else knowing about her curiosity. The Dark Arts were dangerous enough on their own.

"I suppose she is, Black."

.

.

Later that morning, the young witch walked out of Home Economics slightly traumatized, and grateful it was no longer a course offered at Hogwarts. Fortunately, she had read all of the books on the subject in the Hogwarts Library during her schooling, so she'd been more advanced than the rest of her Level 5 class, though it did make her the subject of focus. Madam Hausready announced that she expected no less than perfect from a former Beauxbatons witch, as they "breed the most lovely a Lady." Hermione fought off gagging as she rushed through the halls to get to Advanced Transfiguration.

It was an odd thing to be thankful for, but she was happy to have the course with Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The former would be polite enough not to openly stare, and the Slytherin were tactful enough to at least be discrete about their curiosity, which was something she'd noted that morning at Breakfast. It was only Gryffindor who openly ogled and dared to ask rather rude questions, much to her dismay (her first period had consisted mainly of them, with three Ravenclaw witches, who didn't really care either way, and one other Slytherin, Eileen Prince –who'd seated herself beside Hermione on principle, but did not carry on a conversation; she hadn't exactly said much the night before, either).

By the time she arrived, with a few minutes to spare, she realized that Eileen had already gotten there, and was sitting next to Riddle. They were speaking in quiet tones, and Hermione lingered briefly in the hall before she felt an arm over her shoulders, ushering her in.

"Good day, fair maiden," Cygnus grinned happily. He was by far the most expressive Slytherin she'd ever come across, and (as always) it was both endearing and worrisome, as he was connected to Riddle. When exactly had his happiness gotten squished to pieces? Or was this just an absolutely amazing cover-up for his true self? She wasn't sure which line of thought she preferred.

"Cygnus," she smiled politely, glancing at the other two Slytherin. Of course, her companion's actions had drawn attention, and Hermione realized that Eileen was getting up from her seat and moving one over, where her books were stacked. Riddle raised an eyebrow when they made eye contact, tilting his head to the now empty seat.

She schooled her facial expressions, not allowing the shock to show, but wondered why on earth she was expected to sit with him. What the hell did Abraxas say, she wondered as Cygnus walked her across the classroom.

"Cheating on me already, Cyg?" Eileen asked, not looking at him as she set up her quill and ink.

He quickly let go of Hermione, pulling out her chair for her before moving to sit next to sit in front of the other witch. "Of course not, my love," he smiled as he turned to face her. Curiously, Hermione watched them banter flirtatiously; that was that last thing she'd expected, a Black being soft on a Prince, but she decided they looked quite nice together. He was pretty enough for the both of them –not that Eileen was ugly, she just seemed as though she hadn't quite come into herself yet.

Riddle's hand against the back of her neck drew her attention away from the pair. He'd parted the necklaces, allowing the gems to sit atop his hand and keeping the chain under his palm. It wasn't surprising to Hermione; she knew Voldemort liked any great power right where he could see –or feel- it.

"Unsolicited touches are very frowned upon, Monsieur."

He looked very slightly amused; "You were quite tough on Black this morning," he informed her, thumb circling the curve on her neck. It was more soothing than she cared to admit. "And here I thought only I got to see your fangs."

His words melted over her slowly and Hermione could only blink at him. Tom Riddle, soon to be the most feared Dark Lord, was teasing her. The "I'd-really-like-to-smile" smirk that was quirking his lips told her so. She turned more toward him and decided it would be a good time to relax under his hold, but gave him a tightlipped smile. "You're being a bit fresh, Monsieur."

Letting her go, he straightened himself out and realigned his tie. "It's curious that you can tease me, but I can't return the favor."

She set her arms on the desk, playing with her nails thoughtlessly. Honestly, she wouldn't have minded if Cygnus or Abraxas had been teasing her; Black had established that he was playful, and it was obvious Malfoy was soft on her. But Riddle was straight laced and double edged. It was upsetting to not understand what he was up to.

Suddenly, it dawned in her that he was referring to her pressing herself against him as teasing. Oh Merlin, not yet. "Are you interested in," stumbling over her words, Hermione blushed.

She felt him swell with happiness, but let her embarrassment fester by not looking at him. "Go on, Miss Granger." She wanted to burst at his obvious amusement. Such trivial things being able to amuse him made him so human, and it was difficult to take in. This was the most unprepared she'd felt in long time.

Luckily, Abraxas took that time to sit down in front of them, smiling happily at Hermione before frowning at Riddle. "Really, Tom, you couldn't resist hackling the poor witch?"

"I don't believe that is any of your business, Malfoy," he replied in a voice that left no room for question. Again, she was amazed at how quickly he changed gears.

"Mimi's business is my business," he announced him an equally serious tone, shocking both of them. Cygnus and Eileen also looked curiously at him in the silence; Orion and a blonde that wasn't quite a Malfoy walked in and sat down, the former beside Abraxas while the other filled the space next to Cygnus. It was then that Hermione noticed the classroom was full, and there were more curious glances than she anticipated.

"I had no idea you two were so close."

The witch turned to look at Riddle instantly, as his tone had gone cold and empty, alarming her. Fortunately, Dumbledore choose that moment to start the class. She focused on the professor as he went over the next semester with them, expressing his excitement to have them in the higher-level class. She glanced nervously at Riddle to find him focused on the front of the classroom. His voice had been harsher than the first time he'd pressed her against the wall, and although Abraxas had made it seem as though it was normal, she was uncomfortable.

What had Malfoy meant when he'd said her business was his? Had they really gotten that close to one another? It'd barely been two days since they meet, and although he reminded her greatly of Draco, they barely knew each other. And, anyway, had Riddle been upset about it? She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the Dark wizard being upset about she and Abraxas' friendship. It was a bit unfair, really. It wasn't as though he wanted to be her friend! She would take anything she could get, which was currently the Malfoy and an enthusiastic Black; maybe a snarky one as well, but Orion didn't seem as though he understood what a friend was.

Sighing, she tried to buckle down on the lesson, which he'd started by covering the theory behind living transfiguration. Dumbledore was so enthusiastic about it that she found herself thinking less about the Malfoy-Riddle problem and more about how lucky she was to be learning from the Albus Dumbledore. However, her thoughts continuously ventured.

Home Economics had been much easier, she decided as she packed up her things to leave. Hermione realized that both Riddle and Abraxas were moving at her pace, she looked up and smiled at them, but the professor called her attention before she could say anything.

"It's meal time, Miss Granger," Riddle reminded her, and it was horrible to realize she was now required to eat lunch by his side as well.

Pursing her lips, she slung her bag over her shoulder and lifted her nose slightly in the air, "I'm well aware, thank you." With that, she swept over to her uncle, leaning in for a hug.

She told herself it was to prove to them they weren't it for her, but it was really for her own peace of mind.

.

.

After lunch with Dumbledore, Hermione peaked out of the classroom to find Abraxas leaning against the wall, reading. He looked up at with raised eyebrows, it was the most serious expression he'd ever given her, and snapped the book shut. "We lost Riddle about fifteen minutes ago."

She stepped over to him, a bottle of Butterbeer in one hand and heavy sandwich in the other. "I know; Oncle was holding me until you two left." She grinned at his offended look, "He thinks you're intentions are not honorable." After he put his novel away, she handed the lunch to him. "I told 'im I was sure they were, Monsieur."

"Thank you, Mimi. I assure you, they are. You've honored me too much to disgrace you."

It was a heavy admittance, and she took time to mull over it as they walked down the hall. There was still plenty of time before they had to be in class, so they moved leisurely, Abraxas amusing her by eating as he walked. It was such an ordinary thing for him to do, as he looked quite prince-like in his school uniform. To do so, he'd handed her back to the Butterbeer, but she didn't mind.

"Thank you for not considering it a burden, Abraxas." She could practically feel him grin at the way she said his name, but couldn't understand why he found it amusing. Shooting him a smirk, she tapped his arm with her shoulder, "That makes us partners in crime, non?"

He chuckled, amusement shining in her eyes. "I reckon Riddle wants that role."

She scrunched her nose up in a frown, "I don't think 'e likes me very much."

He hummed in thought, and motioned to a low windowsill they could sit on. "Why do you think that? He likes you quite a bit." At her disbelieving look, he nodded insistently. "Give him time, you'll see. I think you all would be a nice couple."

She coughed at the thought, and he encouraged her to take a sip of her drink. "He is metis!"

Abraxas actually laughed at her exclamation, and she decided it sounded a bit like Draco's. "He hasn't told you, then?" Getting the last few laughs out, he looked around to make sure no one had been around for his outburst; Hermione decided it was charming, as he was comfortable enough to be himself around her. "Tom is the heir of Slytherin."

Hermione let her face show surprise before becoming thoughtful, "That iz why you all like him."

Abraxas shrugged and looked away, "He's a powerful wizard, Mimi. He's going to go far. Surely, you see the benefit in aligning yourself with someone seemingly worthless. You're in Slytherin for a reason." Looking back at her, he gave a handsome smile. "You all could go far together."

She looked at him suspiciously, "Did 'e put you up to this?"

"No. He's single, you're in need of a proposal," he raised his eyebrows in hopes to persuade her. "I only want what's best for my friends."

Hermione laughed. "Naturally."

"I imagine he'll try to sway you toward him."

She sighed, "What did you say, hmm? Riddle 'as been so odd."

He was silent for a minute. "Tom hated you. I guess you may have sensed that. He actually wanted, well, never mind that. But he just knew you were nothing but bad news. Of course, it's hard for him to determine the status of foreign families –specially one in hiding!- which is why he'd invited me to come early. I wasn't sure, but you do look a bit like Lady Montague –tan and curly-haired and generally just lovely-, you have your father's hair coloring, too. I do apologize for bringing up your family, but my father ranks well in our Ministry. He'd heard they'd never found the daughter's body. I hoped you were her." He smiled at her, "The necklace, your mother's, is what convinced me.

"I saw the future when you leaned into him," his voice was full of awe that alarmed her, "and I told him so. Don't worry too much; I only explained to him that you were the last of a powerful line, much like he is. Its likely Riddle is acting so strangely because he doesn't know what to do with someone like yourself."

"Did you tell him about the tattoo?" She asked at a whisper.

He shook his head, "He knows about them, though. He's been with enough of our women to know you wear the mark of your blood."

Hermione considered what she'd been told. It hadn't occurred to her how much Abraxas was on her side. He had no reason to be, and she loved him for it. However, it was very problematic that Riddle knew about the family tattoos. She wasn't worried about him asking to see it, Snape had charmed the mark onto her skin to amazingly that even Dumbledore and Flitwick together couldn't manage to determine a way to get it off. She was worried bout whether or not he knew enough Dark Magic to determine its authenticity. It wouldn't do her any good to have the thing if he knew how to call the Montague blood to it. He'd find the thing resting above her magic rather than with it.

"But if he attempts to insult your honor, you must let me know. I told him it would be unacceptable and he knows what type of consequences he would face from myself."

"Monsieur Riddle est dangereux! You barely know me, and you defend me so, Abraxas," she gave him a soft, sad smile.

Scooting closer, he nudged her with his elbow. "Of course, little Lady." He paused slightly, as though determining whether or not he wanted to say the next statement out loud, "My parents could have another Malfoy; everything about you is far more important."

She shuttered, looking at him as though he'd hurt her, and he frowned, realizing she didn't understand.

But she had, and she hated it. Hermione had belatedly realized she shouldn't have enlisted Malfoy's help. Abraxas had gone and gotten himself too invested in her too soon, much Like Draco had done. It was common knowledge that they were nothing if not loyal to the places they invested their time and –oh, god, she wanted to cry- affections.

He reached over and stroked her cheek. "With great honor comes greater responsibility, Miss Granger."

"You should change your family motto." It was her attempt at a joke, but it sounded pathetic.

Still, he grinned. "Perhaps."

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Hermione whispered a thank you, to which he responded by pulling her onto his chest. It was really all too much for her, and she closed her eyes to keep the tears away. It didn't work, but he didn't mention a thing as her body shook with sobs. Instead, he held her a bit tighter.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I took a lot of liberties with the classes available for seventh years for a few reasons. Mainly because the adults in the books always seemed to be wondering what on earth students at Hogwarts were learning, which gave me the feeling that the classes available had gone down (which isn't surprising, considering the state of the Wizarding world by the time we're privy to it). Since it's the 40s, I've added more that just etiquette classes, but tried to stay true to what we know was available in the 90s. (This will show more later on, if all goes as planned.)

I've also taken a lot of liberties with the uniforms (particularly for the girls, because I thought they weren't really as nice as the boys uniforms), and basically given them options as to what they can wear; i.e. skirts, trousers (only allowed if taking Herbology beyond the OWL level, Earth Magic, Xylomancy, or Advanced Art courses), and dresses are allowed. Everyday style looked much neater and crisper in the 40s, and I would think this true Wizarding world as well.

Thank to my reviewers (! ! !) and readers. As always, it means the world to me. I'm pretty sure I'll be updating Tuesday/Thursday, and hopefully Saturday (may be Sunday, if my schedule gets hectic) as well. Anyhow, it's a smidgen boring, but I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!

:D


	7. Pretenses

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of this lovely world.

*If you got any updates, Ixtapa51 pointed out that I made a mistake with the little pet name Tom gave Hermione. Again, thank you so much for pointing it out!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Riddle sat in his room, elbow on the high arms of his chair and the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Before him, the Black Lake swirled with vigor, and he realized it was the giant squid, swirling about as though he had no purpose. It was ironic, really, because the young wizard felt nearly the same. His life seemed as though it was going to derail, and it was a greatly unsettling feeling.

Abraxas had explained to him that Mimi was the crème of the crop, and advised he do his best to secure her favor. He understood, unfortunately, why Grindelwald had been so intent on having her family on his side; he'd spent every free moment of his days translating books on old Italian and Greek families, and discovered that both families had ties in Black Magic, which was supposed to be a more dignified and refined sector of the Dark Arts used by those blood and minds were purest –which is why it was an impressive feat.

When he'd learned of their power, he wondered if she would even be useful to him. It could have been why her family had gotten themselves killed, anyway: they knew too much, and Grindelwald couldn't live with people who couldn't commit to him knowing his secrets. It was understandable, more so than someone massacring a family because the patriarch killed their _mother_. That would be a sure sign of weakness. Anyway, if she couldn't help him, why should he bother securing her favor? Granger could focus on his more gentle pursuits, but to waste such a thirst for knowledge and the Dark Arts-

He pulled him thumb out of his mouth and straightened up. She was learned in Dark Arts, or at least becoming so. He'd never seen a book on Black Magic in her rooms or around the commons, which one studying the Art would have. Perhaps her mind was not pure? He'd have to test her, without giving away too much, of course.

A knock at his door drew him out of his thoughts, and he rose to find Druella Rosier standing on the other side of his door. He gave her a curious look as she curtsied sweetly, "My lord, I have news on your interests."

He considered her for a moment before inclining his head; "I'll be in the sitting room in a moment. Call for tea, Miss Rosier."

She nodded and moved down the hall and steps, disappearing quickly. Glancing about his room, he decided to check to see if his neighbor was in. It only took three paces in her room's direction to realize he couldn't sense her in the wards, but that damned cat was. In a fleeting, thoughtless moment, he pushed open the door and scooped the little animal into the crook of his arm. It was a curious feeling, the little heart beat pattering calmly against his fingers, no sense of fear at being in his possession. _Figures,_ he thought, _such a powerful little witch would have a strong, equally small protector._ He allowed himself a more humored smirk than usual before schooling his features and slipping into the sitting room.

Druella was waiting patiently, but didn't rise when he entered, obviously in one of her moods. She was usually a most faithful and respectful girl. Sighing, he sat down in the armchair across from her and set the cat to rest against the smooth, leather of the armrest. He didn't remain there, though; instead, the kitten hopped down into his lap and curled into a small ball; surprising even himself, he allowed it to remain.

Tom noticed her watching him and the animal curiously, as no one in Slytherin actually choose cats as familiars, but ignored it. After a few moments, she made his tea and offered it to him without meeting his gaze, obviously attempting to return to the stasis she resolved herself to in his presence. He knew she was a demanding, outspoken girl that struggled to submit to his will, and was happy that she made valiant attempts to. They shared the same end goal, after all, and he knew she was aware of the fact that he was the only wizard of their generation with enough power and will to make ends meet.

Finally, he sipped his tea –a blend he didn't recognize, but sensed no threat from- and crossed an ankle over his knee, disturbing the sleeping animal only slightly. "What is it you have to say, Miss Rosier?"

The witch raised her eyes slowly, looking at him from beneath her lashes, and lifted a flat, tin box from her lap, offering it to him. "My brother sends his respects and well wishes from the Americas, My lord," she spoke with a pretty smile that relayed her proudness. Her entire family was quite smitten with the young Dark Lord, and he found the blind devotion captivating.

Taking the gift, he opened it to discover a collection of fat cigars, all different shades and marked with the insignia of a different country or territory. He could sense the magic swirling around each, preventing the flavors from blending together. It was a thoughtful thing to give someone, and he told her so. She preened under his praise, before lifting a single wrapped one from her side of the table and handing it to him.

"He says this one should be smoked with this blend," she gestured to the teapot. "Both were cultivated in the Amazon, by a native tribe of wizards, that are unimpressed by the sanctions being imposed on their lands by the Muggles. He says that they are being backed by the British Ministry." She took a moment for him to absorb what she was saying, watching as he set the teacup down in order to unwrap the cigar. It was thinner than the others, obviously only to enjoy during a tea service rather than heavy drinking, and he took the time to inhale the scent of it with admiration before truly observing it.

The wrapper was black, with an oily sheen to it, which told him it'd be sweet to the taste. The smell lingered in his nose, tobacco with subtle undertones of cocoa and what he knew to be coffee from his days in the Muggle orphanage, as English wizards thought the drink to be beneath them. While he sent the tin box over to the bookshelf, he summoned his guillotine cutter to slice the cap from the cigars head, magicking away what was unneeded. Pulling his favored lighter out of his pocket, he leaned over the side of the chair in order to light the foot without disturbing the cat –although, he did try not to acknowledge that fact that he was making allowances for the damn thing.

After tasting it, he gave her a brief, kind smirk. "And what else, Miss Rosier?"

She took a sip from her cup before responding. "I did hear Miss Granger asking Malfoy about why you were giving her the silent treatment."

He stroked the Siamese with a certain degree of happiness. _Good_. "Befriend her, Druella. She is a powerful witch to align yourself with," she nodded at his advising, both sipping their tea. It was irrational, but he had been quite upset that she'd had lunch with her uncle on the first day of term, and spent the last few days pointedly ignoring her. She was still required to sit with him in the Great Hall, and beside him in any class they shared_; _he just refused to pay her any mind during any of it. "Tell me more of what you know about the natives of the Amazon."

Druella's eyes widened at him wanting to display her intelligence, but she flourished under the attention as he finished up his cigar.

.

.

At exactly six, Tom excused himself from the sitting room, where a few of his Knights had gathered since his joining Druella there, informing them that they should go ahead to dinner. Depositing the kitten in Granger's rooms, he confidently made his way toward the fifth floor, where her Muggle Art class was being held. It was beyond him why she would be taking such a class, especially with it running for three hours every weekday, but it did seem like something someone of her station would enjoy.

Once he'd finally made it though the throng of students who felt he was the type who wanted to be stopped and chatted with –it was taxing, being the likable Head Boy that could do no wrong, but vital-, he posted himself on the wall outside of the classroom. The door was open, so he stood a few feet to the left, where he would go unnoticed by students simply wanting to get to dinner. Of course, he'd noticed that she was the constant vigilance kind of girl, always casting curious glances around in a discreet fashion that he was almost envious of. Though, he imagined he would have learned the skill as well if his life were as threatened as hers was.

As he waited for the class to end, he listened to the music wafting from the Muggle record player. He recognized it as one of Beethoven's symphonies as he further considered what to do with his little witch. At this point, he understood whatever he decided would be constantly changing and developing as their relationship grew. As of right now, they were barely even coexisting, and it was obvious that the step toward anything more would require a lot from both ends. He was sure she would be pleasant and a lady if he requested her presence more often, but he wasn't sure he could manage to be a gentlemen even in his free time. The walk here, combined with the pleasantries every day required, would drive him crazy before he graduated Hogwarts. _No_, he thought, _pretending with Mimi wouldn't do at all_. Instead, he'd have to gage where she truly was in her delve into the Dark Arts. If she were as deep as he suspected, she would surely require some sort of assistance or sounding board. At this point, he could only hope Abraxas hadn't offered to help her with such interests.

That was a whole other topic of displeasure for him, which he'd caused himself. His most trusted follower was now wrapped around the finger of a slip of girl he was sure he could do without (despite the fact that he _did_ want her on his side, simply because she was now a rarity in the world, even if no one knew who she was). In fact, all of his Knights seemed increasingly taken by her; it was at least satisfactory that they didn't all enjoy her company as much as the Blacks and Malfoy, who were always chatting and smiling with her, like she were their damned grandmother or someone in need of being won over.

The last thought sobered his mind. For all of her obvious intelligence and power, she was still a woman. One who could finally relax a little more than normal –at least with Abraxas-, _of course _she would want to talk and laugh and carry on. It was only natural, she'd told him exactly that at dinner the night before term.

As students began to leave, he straightened up and edged closer to the doors, pride swelling slightly at the sight of Granger. She looked more lovely than usual, like blood royalty amongst the poor, Muggle-loving saps who also took the class (she was, after all, the only Pureblood worth mentioning that exited). It was an interesting feeling, but he accepted it for what it was: Slytherin house had gained an exceptional witch, and he'd always had an eye for exceptionality. She wasn't wearing her robes, and her stockings were dirtied with paint and glitter; it was charming, but he frowned when they made eye contact.

Her shock as seeing him waiting was obvious. "What i_z _this? 'ave I made myself worthy to speak with again?"

"I've chosen the wrong time, that is for sure." He made it a point to stare at her smudged stockings, "Are you always this dirty after Muggle Art?" He said the name of the class with more disgust than necessary, eyeing the room with the same distaste.

"Non, Monsieur Riddle," she started walking, hesitating only briefly before taking his offered arm. "I am usually studying theory. Today, I wanted to do something amusing."

"And you care about Muggle art, Miss Granger?"

"Oui, Monsieur. It tends to 'ave more vibrancy, in color and meaning. Do you care about my caring?" She gave him a teasing smile as they started down the staircases.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and inclined his head. Their stroll was more leisure than he ever would have allowed with anyone else, and her jab seemed to strike him harshly. He cared quite a bit what she cared about, and although he told himself it was because she may prove to be of importance and he'd hate to have to build a friendship when his plate was more fill of more taxing appointments, he sensed there was more there. As he hated lying to himself, he was content with not knowing what more was there. Angering himself in the halls would do no good.

"I suppose that I'm curious as to what catches a lady of your stations attentions."

She seemed to become straighter at his bringing up her secret, but he was distracted from her interesting expression as the staircase they were standing on began to shift. He raised his free hand to lie over hers in the crook of his arm; when she didn't seem to mind the steadying action, Tom left it there.

"I am sure you know where my attentions lie," she spoke lowly, as though embarrassed about her inkling toward the Dark Arts.

He turned to look at her, patted her hand, and then let his drop. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, mon Cherie. Studying and partaking are very different –oh, I see." Smirking at her blushing face, and leaned nearer to her, "And just what types of Dark Magic do you practice, little witch?"

"I fancy myself well versed in Potions."

It was the most English she'd ever sounded, and he thought her attempt was cute, which was upsetting. "You should befriend Miss Prince, then. She's very talented at that particular art," Tom advised diplomatically. After a few moments of walking in silence, he swallowed down his nerves, "I wouldn't be too opposed to assisting you with any of your other inquiries."

She stopped, and he did, too. Eyeing her wide-eyed curiosity, he smirked with knowing satisfaction. Granger was incredibly unable to school her features when surprised, and he quite liked it. Tilting his head, he waited for her response.

"And where would you fit me into your daily plans?" Her voice was a whisper he hadn't been prepared for.

Leaning in toward her, he found that if he wanted to, he could take her in his arms and rest his head on her head. It would be a position he'd never experienced before, and decided he'd use it at just the right time. "You'll find that I make time for those worthy of it, Miss Granger."

She had to tilt her head to look at him so close, and they remained near to each other for longer than necessary before he decided he was too hungry to stand around any longer.

"Must you take a class so long, anyhow? There can't be that much to learn of Muggle art."

She seemed to relax at the change in topic. "They are far more innovative than us, Monsieur."

More than he cared to admit, it was nice to hear her finally recognize him as a wizard, not a half-blood. It was like an affirmation of support for him, before she even realized the full extent to which he was powerful. Now, Tom was counting the seconds before she would kneel before him and accept his council as all-powerful. It would be a long time coming, but he didn't doubt that the journey would be sweet.

"Tell me about it, Mademoiselle," he encouraged, and she did. Smirking to himself as they made their way into the Great Hall, the young wizard could feel the curiosity radiating off the students. He'd never publically taken time with anyone as he had Mimi Granger, and although it was a big risk to do so, he found that he quite liked the influx of attention.

Despite being in Slytherin, she was forever connected to Albus Dumbledore, a wizard who could do no wrong in the eyes of his peers. No one would doubt his actions as long as he established himself as a part of her. He'd just have to encourage her to reestablish herself as a social figure and household name._ Yes, _he thought,_ the witch would be of much use, after all._

_._

_._

Saturday morning found him joining Granger in their sitting room. She was relaxing in the window seat when he arrived, a charmed book in her lap, and looked up at him with a relatively distant look, as though she weren't quite sure where she was. When she finally registered him, she offered him a very small smile. Tom responded with a nod.

They'd stayed together late the night before, the girl reading from a gossip magazine while he smoked and chatted with his more important Knights. He'd noticed their more interested glances in her direction, and was satisfied when no one questioned him on her being there. Their standard Friday night activity would include her from now on, if things went his way. She hadn't seemed to mind.

"Miss Granger," he called after settling in on the couch. He folded an ankle over his knee and propped up his early edition of the Daily Prophet, which he always had delivered to his rooms.

"Why do you have my _chaton_?" She replied, barely looking up from her text.

He looked down and petted the animal in question, which purred happily at the attention. She seemed to have no problem with her entering her rooms, which appeased him. One who had nothing to hide was one to be trusted, and he felt that he was moving toward having some confidence in her.

"I seem to be the only one who cares about his well being, ma Cherie. He and I bond everyday."

She gave him a look he couldn't quite make out before sighing. "That is not 'elpful to my attempts to have him imprint on me, Monsieur Riddle."

"You wish for him to be your familiar?" It was a curious thing, really. This creature would die before long. Why on earth would she want to establish such a relationship with it? He'd thought her above such things.

"That was the idea, yes."

"But you leave the poor thing locked in your rooms day in and out," he grinned inwardly, watching as she became flustered. "That is no way to start a relationship."

"You're giving me relationship advice?" She looked skeptical.

He chuckled, "I suppose. My familiar and I are quite true to and comfortable with each other. Yours seems to suck up any attention it's offered."

Granger set her book to the side and turned to face him, letting her legs fall over the side as her back rested on the glass. She was quite pretty in the morning light, even if she looked rather undignified in the trousers so cared for so much. He realized then that her hair was in two braids today, and wondered why she never wore it out. It would be nice if she did.

"Monsieur," she stated curiously, "I was unaware you had a familiar."

Silently, he cursed, and looked away. Why the hell had he said that? It wasn't as if the thing was actually a familiar. The Basilisk was just something he'd discovered and gained control over. Now, she was waiting for more information about his dear pet. "Yes," he spoke in a measured tone, "it is not exactly a conversation starter, Miss Granger."

The smile she gave him was charming. "I think we could use any help we can receive."

He smirked, "And here I thought you enjoyed our little chats."

She shrugged, "They are a little simple-minded, if I must say."

That was a stab in the gut. He scowled at her. "I am here for your entertainment, dear. Please, what can I do better, Lady Montague?"

A look of dark pleasure took over her face, and it excited him more than it should have. "Is there any truth to the rumor that you are the Heir of Slytherin?"

The question was delivered innocently enough, and he considered her for a bit, stroking the kitten before answering in the affirmative. "Does it make you any more tolerant of my under-par blood status?"

"Yes."

He resisted smiling. It was a pivotal moment for him. Just a few hours ago, she'd accepted him as a wizard; he couldn't have imagined such another large step for them. _At this rate,_ he thought jovially, but with no real stock, _she should be pledging herself to my cause by the end of the night._

"It i_z_ quite a noble thing, being related to a Founder. Such an important thing to leave out."

"Careful, Miss Granger, one might think you favor me."

She laughed, but it was light and tinkering sound that made him look at her twice. Was she encouraging him to think in such away? In was laughable, really. Before he could dwell on it, she announced, "Oh, no, Monsieur. I wouldn't want to be one of those poor witches who pine for your attention when they are most definitely elsewhere. I am simply saying that our friendship could 'ave started much sooner."

Who really needed friends? He needed followers, the more powerful the better. She would do finely. "We're not short of time now, Miss Granger." He kept his face blank, in fear of being rejected.

_Fear_, he considered, feeling an icy chill fall over him. It was a sudden realization, but she was just as sharp and unpredictable with her words as he was. For as much as he wanted her under him, he knew he had to be careful now. It wasn't the same type of careful he'd possessed before, as he knew enough to get her killed, but it was still there. Granger was beloved by the media and school for her stylish attire and sweet accent, and she'd charmed her way into the lives of his followers simply because he was curious as to who she was. For all her sugary appeal, she still had fangs, and it seemed she knew exactly where to strike to get the desired affects. Idly, he wondered if there was anything in her bites. It was a troubling thought; any more power behind her charms could damage him. That is, if he didn't gain the upper hand. There was really no longer any room for failure, though. He needed her right where he could see him.

It was upsetting that it took him so long to reach this conclusion. Even more so that it took him realizing he feared her reaction to something. He hadn't feared anything a day in his life. He got the sudden urge to strike and break her, and fought with himself not to get up. Forcing logic to his mind, he quickly came to the conclusion that the only reason he 'feared' her was because he'd _given_ her power by not truly showing her the extent of his.

As it was Saturday, he could remedy this. His Knights would be having their first official meeting of the school year today, after a week of learning of their successes and shortcomings over the summer. Tom would have to remind them who was in control, and why is was important to make sure his tasks were completed with perfection, and she would be there to witness it.

Finally, she gave him a shy smile that filled him to the brim after his small descent into…whatever the hell had just overcome him. Power coursed through him. _Yes, dear Mimi_, he thought darkly, _tonight you will learn, and be broken._

"What is it, mon Cherie?" He asked with mock concern, a small smirk quirking his lips. The kitten hopped out of his lap with a start, making his way over to his mistress very merrily. The wizard watched as the witch scooped him into her arms and held him to her chest, listening as the animal meowed softly at the coddling.

"Monsieur, how do you usually spend your _samedi_?"

"Going over plans," he spoke honestly.

She perked up, "Plans for what?"

"For my meetings, Miss Granger."

She wrinkled her nose and slouched slightly, "Ah, 'ead Boy duties." He didn't correct her. "What time is the meeting?"

"Not until after dinner. Did you have something in mind for us?" He asked teasingly, shocked when she nodded excitedly.

At his look of slight distaste, she froze. "I apologize. I thought, perhaps, you wouldn't mind going on _un promenade ave-,_" she laughed at her own rapid plunge into French.

"A walk?" He asked before she could finish the thought. "I suppose it's a nice enough day."

She actually grinned at him, jumping up, "Let me put him in my rooms and grab a sweater."

He smirked broadly as she left, an obvious bundle of excitement. Tom called an elf for a tea service to start their day. When she returned, he made her sit for tea and a light breakfast before they ventured out in the early morning.

Offhandedly, he decided that things couldn't have gone better even if they'd been planned.

.

.

"I'm bringing Miss Granger tonight," Tom leaned back in his chair, a tumbler of Fire whiskey in his hand as he sat in the darkness of the common room. The rest of their house was at dinner. The witch of the hour, however, had been invited to dinner by her uncle, much to his displeasure.

Abraxas' eyes snapped into focus, and the sound of glass breaking filled the room. An elf instantly popped in to clean it up before winking out just as quickly. It was hard to ignore the hot stare, and the dark haired wizard looked slowly up at the young Malfoy.

"Pardon?"

He sighed, "You heard me correctly, Abraxas. Miss Granger will be in attendance of tonight's meeting."

"At which the only thing we will be doing is discussing out success this summer."

"Don't be silly, Abe. We've spent the last week discussing success and failure and who travelled where and did what," he made it sound boring in recollection, but it had been quite insightful, if annoying. "I will be making my opinions known tonight."

"Vocally."

"I will punish those in need in ways I see fit. And Miss Granger will stand behind me as I do so."

"No. Absolutely not. She is in no way prepared-"

Tom set his glass down loudly. "Remember your place, Knight."

"My lord," Abraxas bit out. "I cannot stand by while you destroy a fine witch and noble Lady."

"Hadn't you advised me to her, Malfoy? Weren't you the one who encouraged making her my own?"

Abraxas stared at him openly for longer than comfortable. His jaw was working, fingers twitching with the need to grab for his wand. It spoke loudly that he didn't, as last year he'd been quite short tempered. Had Granger really inspired his follower to shape up? He wanted to demand answers and force him away from the girl, but that wouldn't fit into his current plans.

"Really, Abraxas, if you're smitten with her, I can take it. You can have the witch all to yourself. But tell me now." He had no intentions of letting her go.

"No, My lord. I stand by my earlier words of you being good for each other. She has simply come to mean more than anything. If you intend to destroy her," he let his words fall off, not quite sure what he would say. Abraxas knew, however, that he was prepared to stand for Mimi. He wouldn't allow her line to be smashed into inexistence, not even by his Lord.

"I want nothing more than to have her as my own." It wasn't an outright lie. He meant it on many different, individual levels.

Abraxas seemed to relax. "But must she really join us tonight, My lord? She's barely escaped one Dark Lord, having another thrust upon her could be damaging."

"I am far more intelligent than Grindelwald. Never mind the fact that I want her on my team."

"He wanted her family on his."

"What side are you on here, Malfoy? Your Lord's, or that nutters?"

He paused only briefly, "Hers."

Instantly, Tom had his Knight on the ground under a fever curse. His body was heating to levels that should kill him, insides feeling as though they were on fire. It was something Tom had crafted himself, and the curse affected the mind more than the body, causing no pressing danger to the person under it, if lifted in time.

He lifted it after thirty seconds, leaving Abraxas groaning and twitching in pain, involuntarily. The able wizard bent over his Knight, running the tip of his wand over his face in false affection. "I admire your dedication to someone of higher rank, young Malfoy. However, you'd do well to remember that your life belongs to _me_," his eyes flashed with danger before he pushed himself up to his full height.

Without a second look, he left the room to prepare for the meeting.

.

.

The young Dark Lord knocked on his neighbor's door only out of courtesy. It would be a hard enough night for her, forcing her to witness -and eventually submit to- his will as a Dark Lord, and he wanted her as buttered up as possible. He hadn't spent the day using his own charms on her for nothing.

Granger smiled at him when she pulled the door open, and it was shocking to see her in pajamas. They were so ordinary that it struck him as something innately Muggle. Instead of dwelling on it, he leaned against her doorframe and smirked at her. "Turning in already, Miss Granger?"

"It i_z_ a bit unseemly to be in a lady's rooms so late."

"Blame it on my upbringing, and forgive me, mon Cherie." He spoke lowly, watching as she gave him an amused look. "Get dressed, and join me."

"Pardon?" She actually looked appalled.

"You expressed curiosity toward my meeting tonight, so I thought you'd like to join me."

"Monsieur Riddle, I do not believe you'd be meeting with the 'ead Girl at eleven in the evening."

He considered her for a moment, and realization seemed to dawn on her. Of course, he'd known that she suspected something to be going on. Tonight, she would learn. "I never said it was with McGonagall."

She paused, and her internal conflict showed on her face. Finally, she shooed him away, "Give me a moment, Monsieur."

Fifteen minutes later found them standing in front of a blank wall. He let her wait for a moment too long before willing the door to reveal itself by wishing to see his Knights. She gasped in surprise, and he gripped her elbow before leading her in.

The room was dark, carved out of stone with only standing room and high torches casting off fire for light. It was dramatic, and he as sure it was Lestrange who'd thought it up this time. There was something supremely darkly handsome and incredibly humble even through the dramatics, which was only something he'd be able to pull off.

Under his hold, he felt Granger stutter, having noticed how dangerous everything looked. Tom gave her a moment to study her surroundings, counting off his Knights as he waited. They were all dressed in black, standing tall and proudly before him, as though he had already moved mountains for them. It was a beautiful feeling, made more beautiful by the trembling witch in his hand. She was the only female in the room, as well as the only person wearing something other than the dark uniform he'd required of them. It was a monumental moment.

She ripped out of his hold. "What the 'ell is going on here? A freak show?"

He could see where she got that idea. Allowing his entire focus to fall on her, he lifted a hand to rest on her shoulder, thumb slipping under the gemstone necklace and rubbing circles on her collar. In dulcet tones he explained that this was a meeting for men who hoped to better themselves. When she questioned why she had been invited, he gave her a triumphant smirk, "I wanted you know the full extent of the secret you're keeping."

She turned to look at the group of young men, eyes lingering on her beloved Malfoy before observing the Blacks. Slowly, she looked back at him, "And what are you? The ring leader?"

He chuckled, clutching harder at her neck. "I am their Lord, ma Cherie." The look on her face was priceless. Fear had never been so lovely. Disregarding the presence of the others, he pulled her closer and ghosted his lips over her forehead.

"Attention," he announced so all could hear. Beside him, a chair appeared, and he helped her into it. Incredibly satisfied that she hadn't caused more of a scene, he turned to his followers with eyes aflame. "I am most honored that you all saw fit to join me again this year," he spoke, mentally sighing. _Pretenses._

As the murmured their happiness and honor to be joining him, he turned and smirked at the witch. She was still trembling, body coiled and overtly uncomfortable in the obviously comfortable armchair. Leaning toward her, he let out a honeyed whisper:

"Relax, and watch me rule."

* * *

**Author's Note**: I don't plan on doing Tom-centered chapters often. I just needed a different handle to work with to move the story along. That being said, I'm sorry about how **long **it was. Honestly, I sat down intended to keep it quick and then, well, you see what happened. It was tough cutting parts out, but I think Tom's growth in the span of two days is...alarming. Anyhow, the next chapter will be a pretty pivotal moment in the story, so prepare yourselves for some darker themes being introduced.

Thank you to those who reviewed (: Also, hello to all of the new people following the story. As always, it means a lot to me. Hopefully everyone enjoyed this update!


	8. Submission

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Hermione Granger sat perfectly still in her conjured seat, not even realizing the tremors that shook her body as Riddle ranted on to his followers about the importance of perfection. All she could think about was that she'd done it; she'd actually done it. If you'd told her last week Saturday that she'd be sitting with his Knights, listening in on a meeting, she would have laughed. But somehow, his crazed mind worked out that it'd be beneficial for her to be there. All she wanted now was someone to share this moment with; running back to Dumbledore straight away would only make her look suspicious.

"But I find myself increasingly unimpressed by those who should be pleasing me the most," she listened in as he explained. It was interesting to watch him work now, compared to the sessions Snape had shared with her. Seeing him human and seething instead of snake-like and distant made them into two completely different people. She supposed that they were, as the boy in front of her had no experience or failed dreams –and whatever she'd done to him had yet to happen. Increasingly, she was feeling as though her being here and leaving impacted him more than anyone had let on. It was frustrating to not know just what she'd done.

"What's beyond me is the fact that I have to work so hard for you all, when I get nothing in return. Is it so hard, really, to find a few books and artifacts? Or, to learn of places where they may be and working towards determining where they are now? Have I come to expect too much from you lot? The supposed best?" He scowled at them, disappearing behind the witch to pace some more. "Our Slytherin ladies seem to get more accomplished." Falling silent, only the sound of his shoes against the stone floor could be heard.

After a few minutes, all noises ceased. "I find myself wondering what type of incentives I need to provide in order to inspire you to be your best," he sighed, stopped pacing, and rested his hand on the back of her chair. She recognized the tremors and stopped them, lifting her chin very slightly and letting her eyes fall over his Knights.

_My Lady, _Snape had said as she departed, telling her exactly what she would become. Originally, she thought it was him being a gentleman, but now she understood. Tom hadn't realized it, she was sure, but he was increasingly raising her higher in his life, forcing her into a more important place. The last two days had solidified that. All she'd had to do was question Abraxas in front of the Rosier girl, and Riddle was back at her side. It was as though he was good without her, but better with. It was a dangerous thought, and she swallowed lightly as his fingers brushed over her neck.

"Some of you have been," he paused in thought and stepped away from her, "better, since the start of term. I can only wonder why." It was obvious he'd recognized that they were all quite taken with her on different levels, and she wondered if this is what he'd planned to do to combat that.

There was no hiding the fact that she was the only girl in the room, and although no one seemed alarmed and thrown off by her being her, Hermione could sense this wasn't normal. Nothing about this was.

"Perhaps it being back in my presence?" He chuckled. "I am not so blind, Knights." He paused, clasped his hands behind his back, and became thoughtful. "I understand how beauty can inspire." It was a whisper, as though he hadn't really wanted to say it. But Hermione recognized it for what it was: as much as he built himself up, he wanted his followers to know he was still relatable. He wanted them to feel as though they too could achieve his level of greatness. It would cause them to take his advice more surely.

She'd thought, before arriving in this world, that it was silly that he'd had followers in what was essentially high school. How on earth could a 17-year-old boy gain the upper hand over wizard's who'd lived and breathed magic from the moment they were born? Now, she understood why he was so supremely powerful in her proper time. Right now, he was as powerful as he was charismatic and handsome; who would doubt him?

Suddenly, he looked right at her, as though coming to some extreme realization. She noticed him have a few earlier in the day as well, and it made her nervous to think his plans where constantly evolving. His growth was doubling, and it was hard to keep up. Had she really caused this?

Hermione gave him the most delicate smile she could manage, and he responded by tilting his head slightly before resuming his pacing and ranting. She made eye contact with Abraxas and realized he was paler than normal –which was troubling. Even more so, he seemed to be shivering. It wasn't cold in the room at all; in fact, it was _too _comfortable. Before she could ask him a silent question, he looked away, refocusing on his lord.

He'd started hurting his followers already? Abraxas was beyond faithful to Riddle, so why would he even consider hurting him? She wanted to return the favor, but was unsure how. Attacking him outright would be disastrous.

_My Lady, _Snape's voice sounded in her head again, a gentle reminder. _It's all very unclear._ Had that been a lie? Or, perhaps she was one person before his followers, and another behind the scenes? That would make sense; she'd known that Voldemort had fundamentally changed, becoming far more nervous and radical, essentially causing his own down fall. If she'd been a base in his rise to power, her disappearing would cause part of it to crumble…especially if she contributed it in ways he was incapable.

Hermione accepted that she needed to dig deeper, that she needed to become more then he needed in order to provide more than he needed. Everything kept growing and expanding to a standard that was damn near impossible to manage. She couldn't submerge herself so deeply into the Dark Arts without becoming susceptible to them. She'd have to anchor herself somewhere. Abraxas wouldn't do, she needed him to keep her sanity; the only thing left was Riddle.

_Merlin_, she thought with a quiet gasp, _I need Riddle. _It was a disgusting thought.

His voice pulled her back in, as the thoughtfulness in it actually seemed genuine. "Finally, I ask you, dear Knights, what would you do if you were in my shoes?" Involuntarily, everyone looked down at his Dragon skin boots. He looked quite nice, in fact, in black slacks that made his legs seem longer and a black dress shirt. His belt matched his shoes to a T, and Hermione realized she was unsure as to where he'd gotten the means to afford such things. It was also shocking to see how well he took care of himself, considering what he'd become in the future. He never even _wore_ shoes in her time, for goodness sake. What had changed so drastically?

"Would you allow failure to go unpunished?"

He looked to them for an answer and a choir of "No, My lord," was heard through the room. Riddle looked at Hermione with great pleasure etched onto his face, and an expression that said: _wait till you see what happens next._

"But what would you **do, **Knights?"

She couldn't see his expression, only the shiver of pleasure that rattled his shoulders as he looked over his followers. Hermione found herself worried. He wouldn't punish anyone in front of her, would he? That was hardly a becoming action of a gentleman of this time. He knew better. But, she also knew him. He didn't care for anything that didn't benefit him. Riddle was showing him what he was capable of. She'd actually convinced him that she was a Montague, and he was attempting to impress her. _Are you kidding me?_ She wanted to get up and shake him and force him to impress her with how kind he could be rather than what he was about to do.

"Avery," he called, and the young man stepped forward. "Introduce yourself to Mademoiselle Granger."

"Nicholas Avery, Lady Granger," he bowed grandly. As he straightening out, she realized that he was quite handsome. With sandy blonde hair and a strong face, he seemed to radiate with pretentiousness that she was sure Draco would be jealous of. He wouldn't meet her eyes though, which was a strange thing for her. She hadn't given him any reason not to. "I'm honored to meet you."

"Yes, yes, we know, we're all honored to meet Miss Granger, Avery. Inform her of what you've been up to."

Avery bowed his head and told her of what he'd accomplished over the summer –a trip to the South of France, his family's annual return to one of his grandfather's homes; a break into his father's library, where he'd gathered the tomes Riddle had asked for; and finally, he'd officially met the woman he was to marry, a German pureblood who's family was unimpressed by the work of Grindelwald, though they did agree with his core beliefs.

At the end of his spew, during which Riddle had looked about ready to pick his nails in boredom, the young Dark Lord looked up at his witch with curious eyes. "What do you gather from Avery's recollection, hmm? Are you satisfied?"

This was do or die. She inclined her head in thought before sighing a bit dramatically. "I am underwhelmed," she spoke lightly. Pulling on what she'd learned from his ranting –careful not to make it known that she knew far more-, Hermione decided on a game plan. "Per'aps you left out that you'd shared the talents of Monsieur Riddle with your bride's family?"

Avery's eyes snapped up to her in shock before he refocused on the floor before him. Had he really not thought to do that? _That _was unimpressive. What type of follower didn't seek to further his lord's goals? She rolled her eyes; deciding that this was why you shouldn't employ boys to do men's work.

"No, Lady Granger, I didn't think to mention it."

She made a noncommittal sound, eyeing the young wizard carefully. "No, you didn't think at all, did you?"

Riddle tilted his head back and laughed. _Actually laughed. _It was a daunting sound, the kind that was only made when you were finding pleasure in the failures of others, and Hermione resisted cutting her eyes at him. Avery was a boy! He wouldn't think to do such things, not while meeting his future wife. How could he not realize that he was being unreasonable with his followers?

It was hypocritical, but at least she'd realized, at least this was all false for her. Subconsciously, she realized that she was no better than he was, as she was just lying to herself to make it okay. _All is fair in love and war_, she decided, and swore to herself that she wouldn't feel sorry about any of this. Not even what she was doing to Abraxas –not that she would actively seek to hurt him.

As Riddle stopped his cackling, he and the witch looked at each other carefully. Slowly, he rose an eyebrow, giving her the power to decide what to do with his follower. Inwardly, she sighed, and wondered if he were actually accomplishing what he though he would when he brought her here. He couldn't possibly.

Or had his plan all along been to get her to display what she'd been learning on her own? The last thing she needed these people knowing was how far she'd drifted into the Dark Arts. Displaying her talents would only make her a threat to them.

When she didn't take action, he stepped over and stood in front of her. She looked up and truly at him for the first time since their arrival. Riddle was actually a completely different person now than he was in her room. He carried on exactly the way he always had, if a bit tougher to get his point across, but his pupils had dilated so greatly that she had to strain to see the whites of his eyes. How had no one realized this before? Did they just not care?

_Oh, Tom, _she thought to herself with more compassion than she cared to admit. It could be that they'd feared him so greatly they simply didn't look at him during meetings, and that was a frightening thought. It would mean that he'd started torturing them during sixth year, and it was such a sad thought that she fought to keep her eyes from showing any true emotion. She wasn't quite sure what filtered over her face, but he seemed pleased by it. _What went so wrong for you?_

"You know the curse he deserves, ma Cherie. Why don't you use it?"

She looked at him coldly, "I am above punishing others, Monsieur."

He smirked, "Is that so?" The darkness on his face took a turn for the worse, "Abraxas!"

She watched as he reveled in her fear. It was the most genuine emotion she'd felt since entering the Room of Requirement, and she'd be damned if she allowed him to hurt her friend for a second time tonight. He had absolutely no right. Still, the blonde obeyed and stepped forward, a clear, "My Lord," slipping from his mouth as he kneeled before them.

"You wouldn't," her voice was a cold whisper.

"Wouldn't I, Miss Granger? Surely I have shown you _something _tonight."

She glanced at Abraxas, still kneeling a few feet away from him as though she and Riddle were worthy of something. A visible tremor passed through him, and she forced herself to stay glued to the seat. "You 'ave hurt him enough tonight. He can barely walk," she whispered harshly. "So help me, I will-"

"What, Miss Granger?" He bit out. "You'll do something that isn't very threatening, but will do doubt anger me. I'll owl Grindelwald and you'll be dead before sunrise." It was a vicious threat, made so easily that Hermione felt as though he'd taken a syringe and shot fear straight into her heart. Riddle stroked her cheek then, fingers hot against her skin. "I wouldn't want to, you know that, but I would."

She wasn't sure if it was the truth or not, but it felt like it. "I will not compromise myself for you, Monsieur Riddle."

He sighed, and whipped out his wand very quickly, pointing at Abraxas. "Do it, or I'll hurt him."

"You 'ave no reason."

"You're giving me one, I'm afraid."

Hermione rose like a queen, forcing him to take a step back. When he realized her wand was in her hand, he smirked handsomely, as if the situation was normal. As she sidestepped him, the witch wondered again what on earth he was playing at. Yes, he was showing her just how strong he was, but what else? This wasn't breaking her, not yet at least. He could think that forcing her to display her own strength before an audience –to actually damage someone who did _nothing _to her- could be cause for a breakdown that would draw her to him. It was a huge risk. She could turn to Malfoy, or even one of the Blacks. Pulling away from him and Slytherin house completely could be another route. All she wanted was a glimpse inside his head, just a few seconds to figure him out. It would make everything much easier.

She pursed her lips at his look of pleasure. Her next move would carry everything for the rest of her time here, more so than anything else she'd done or will do. _My lady_; Hermione felt so upset with Snape that she was sure she could will herself back to the 90s just to strike him. She needed reassurances; promises that everything would be all right. That she would be forgiven for what she had to do.

"They will think you weak, little witch. You will fall before their eyes." His eyes sparkled dangerously, "And then you will die."

Pretending Avery was Riddle, she cast a silent _Alarte Ascendare _while sending a _Deprimo _in his direction as well. As the pressure of essentially being forced into the air while being pressed toward the ground built, the wizard began to gasp and scream. He was shaking violently in the air, drawing the rooms attention. From the corner of her eye, she was relieved to see that Abraxas hadn't looked up to witness her vile act.

The expression on Riddle's face was one of joy, and as she released the curse he encouraged his followers to clap for her attentions to their brethren. "You will find that no displeasure is too small, my Knights, and no one is protected from the repercussions of their failure." Looking back at Hermione, he pointed his wand at their friend and whispered a _Crucio_. "You're dismissed."

He held Abraxas under the curse until everyone had cleared out, collecting Avery and Abbott on their way. When the door closed, only the sound of pained groans and gurgled coughs could be heard. Tingling with life, she slapped him. The action was sobering and she watched as his eyes cleared, raising a hand to graze his reddening cheek.

"Fifty points from Slytherin, for assault of the Head Boy."

She resisted spitting at his feet, because that would mean giving him even more power. "I do not care about silly little 'ouse points!" Hermione pressed her wand into his chest, jabbing it into his skin for emphasis. "You are a sick, vile man. What is wrong with you?"

"Oh, ma Cherie, what did you expect? Surely you realized I was beyond the petty ideals and customs of those around us." He tilted his head in thought, clasping his hands behind his back. He didn't consider her a threat, that much was clear. "I thought perhaps we could bask in the glory in being all-powerful rarities." He stepped closer, forcing the tip further into his skin, scarring it. "I thought you understood. I keep your secret, you keep mine."

"This is illegal and barbaric. Monsieur Malfoy is your friend!"

"He is my follower, Miss Granger, one was punished for your insubordination."

"That is unfair. I should not have been 'ere. I mean nothing to your poor excuse for a cause."

"This isn't Gryffindor, Lady Montague. This is Slytherin." He grasped her face in his hands, "You will accept my will as I have accepted you."

She wrestled from his grasp shoved away from him. Hermione had been prepared for whatever discussion he'd planned to have with her before he'd attacked Abraxas. Now, her head was in turmoil. She couldn't and wouldn't carry remain in the room with him any longer. His threats and actions proved he was most unstable.

With an upward tilt to her chin, she walked over to her friend and bent down, running her hands over his face and chest. He barely responded to her, but she sensed that he knew it was her. Summoning the elf that tended to the sitting room, she instructed the creature run a warm bath in her rooms and place the soon-to-be unconscious wizard in it, informing him that he was to stay until he spoke with her again.

"He will not understand you like I will, Miss Granger. No one will."

Hermione looked at him coldly. Riddle was like the god of death before her, cold and steely with little regard for the well being of others. All he wanted was bodies. Reminding herself that she hadn't taken the name _Persephone, _the witch turned her signature charmed birds on him before disappearing out the door.

She all but ran to the dungeons.

.

.

Two hours later, Hermione finally let the bath water run cold to encourage Abraxas to get out. He was half asleep in the large, stone basin, head tilted back and eyes only fluttering open once he realized he'd dozed off. With a small smile on her face, she leaned toward him and brushed her fingers over his cheekbone.

"This is most inappropriate, Miss Granger," he mumbled, not really seeming to care.

"Miss Granger is it now, Monsieur?"

"I'm trying to make this dignified," he allowed a smile to quirk his lips. "It's well after midnight now, is it not?"

"Do not worry about the time, Abraxas. 'ow are you feeling? Better?" She willed.

He nodded, and attempted to sit up. Hermione smiled as he struggled. "The elf brought you something comfortable to change into. I'll wait outside, if you're shy."

He hummed appreciatively at her attempt to lighten to mood, "Just turn around. I'm loath to admit, but I may need your assistance."

Hermione stood and stepped away from the tub, turning to face the door. The water sloshed as he got out; he was groaning at the effort. With all the lotions lined up around the rim of the bath, she knew it would be a few minutes before he truly needed her, and allowed herself time to think.

Not only had she sat in on a meeting tonight, she'd partaken in one as well. Snape's endearment rang in her head repeatedly, forcing her to recall the way Riddle walked her into the room and placed her to sit like some sort of companion. They presented a united front before his Knights, and she'd helped to punish them. Her heart clenched and twisted at the thought of hurting someone who did absolutely nothing to deserve it. Why had she even suggested his supposed failure?

And then he'd injured Abraxas. He'd pressured her into submission and then did what he wanted to do anyway. Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at the door. He'd won. She did exactly what he wanted. The realization hurt more than cared to admit.

She'd never finished her official plan, having not intended for things to move so quickly. Right now, she needed more than a quick fix. She needed something she could grasp onto and work toward. Reaching, she decided it wasn't exactly Dark magic she'd used tonight, although it was as good as, and she was in the position to take a huge risk and attempt to learn Black Magic.

She'd have to discuss it with Dumbledore, of course, but there was a possibility that because the castle recognized her as a Montague in this time, she'd be able to preform like one. If that didn't work, she'd simply have to play along (which was what she'd planned to do all along, even if it was easier said then done).

At Abraxas' ok, she turned around to find him dressed and ready for bed. They had a brief argument in French about him sleeping in her rooms, which he lost, and she helped him out of the bathroom and into her bed.

"I know that the French are forward people, Mimi, but what would your dear, English uncle think if he learned I was in your room, attempting to lie in your bed?" Abraxas winced as he lowered onto the matress.

"He 'as been asking who I find attractive." She pointed out, hoping to shut him up.

"I am so very flattered, doll," he gave her a wolfish grin, and then frowned. "No, I'm not quite sure I like doll." He seemed deep in thought as she fussed with his pillows and coverings. "Really, Mimi, it's quite alright."

"Does this happen often?"

Abraxas fell silent, studying his hands. He wasn't badly bruised on the outside, but she'd casted a discrete charm to determine what damage had been done internally during one of his sleeping spells in the tub. Combined with the Unforgivable, whatever curse Riddle had used on him earlier seemed to have fried his insides. If he were better by Monday, it'd be a miracle.

Reaching toward the nightstand, she unstoppered one of the industrial strength healing potions she'd brewed and forced him to take it. A glass of water followed, to combat the licorice taste.

"I suppose you haven't been swayed in his direction tonight."

"Far from it." She sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. The worry etched onto her face was real, and Abraxas was beyond hurt by it. He reached over and grasped her hand, earning a gentle smile.

"I advised him against this. I know it's crazy, and I know it's dangerous for you. But, I'd protect you from Grindelwald. We all would, if you haven't noticed."

"Attacking your supporters _est stupide_. And for no reason." She shook her head with outrage, praying it was enough to get more information.

"It's more of a recent thing, really. They started to see him as weak, you know, because everyone was getting away with what they wanted." He struggled to shrug, "So, we came up with a way for them to get in line." He looked thoughtful for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, and then changed his mind. It didn't pass her that he'd describe the Knights as _they _and said _we _came up with a plan. "Why am I telling you this?"

She lifted his hand and rubbed it against her cheek. "You want me on your team, and I am. I trust you to the ends of the world, Monsieur. You are my only friend. But, I can't," she began to cry, "I can not support someone so vicious and unjust. He-he took my family." She sobbed uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, Mimi." He fought through his pain and sat up from her fluffed up pillows to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Tom is not Gellert. He doesn't want to hurt you."

Sniffling, Hermione looked down at the floor and slumped slightly. "He detests my god father, and he had no second thoughts on 'urting you, Abraxas. All that's left is that silly _chaton _and I am waiting for that ship to sink. You all are all I 'have."

He swelled at hearing her consider him family, and Hermione felt like she was just twisting the knife deeper. "I will speak with him about your concerns."

"I can speak for myself! I…I am sorry for yelling. You need your rest, Abraxas." She took her hand back and folded them in her lap. "Do you need anything? Some water? Tea?"

"I sorry I let you down tonight."

She looked at him quickly, studying his face to try to determine why he'd said that. He looked genuinely sorry. "You did nothing wrong."

"I made it seem like he was good for you." Abraxas attempted to relax, but it seemed forced. "My word looks as good as dirt, right now."

"I can handle a little dirt, Abraxas. What I can't handle is another family being slaughtered." She shrugged, "I 'ad to learn sometime though, right?"

Sobering up, Hermione tucked him in further and rose from the bed. "I am sorry, too. I should have known better than to try to save any one from whoever it is I met tonight."

"The Dark Lord," Abraxas whispered. "You meet the Dark Lord." She turned out the lights and slipped from the room.

.

Moving down the hall, Hermione slipped into the sitting room to find Riddle waiting for her. He looked up from his tea and gave her a very kind quirk of the lips. "I was wondering how long you'd take."

"I can leave all the same, Monsieur."

He rose from his seat and motioned to the one across from him, "And here I thought we were past formalities, Mimi."

After staring at him for longer than necessary, she moved into the room and sat primly. This was her territory. She fought battles daily in here, and that would not change today. Lacing her fingers and lifting her chin, she watched as Riddle started preparing them both fresh cups of tea.

"I'd prefer if my name did not come from your lips."

"Whatever you'd like, Miss Montague."

"Granger is alright."

He passed her the cup and saucer, sat back, and drank his tea as though it was normal for them to share such moments. Hermione swallowed the realization that it was almost normal, as it was something she couldn't deal with right now, and focused on setting the saucer down while frowning at the wizard.

"Why _deed _you force such a thing on me?"

"I told you. You needed the complete secret." He gestured to the treats on the table between them, "Would you like a sweet, my dear?"

"You could have told me. I thought our relationship was strong enough for that."

"Seeing is believing."

A glass on the bookshelf popped, and the pair eyed each other as an elf winked in to clean up the remains of her anger. His smirk became clearer, "You impressed me tonight, Miss Granger. You looked so lovely before my followers," he became thoughtful, "so lovely, indeed. And your display of magic," he grinned proudly, as though he'd helped her accomplish such feats. "You were made for this, ma Cherie."

"I will not join you again."

"We're beyond this, Granger. You know that. Are _you _in need of incentives? Was the threat on your life not enough? Should I add Abraxas to the plate as well?"

"You wouldn't."

"I think I proved tonight that nothing is too much for me. In fact, I'd much rather kill him than you. What is a follower to a dear friend, Miss Granger?"

Hermione resisted smiling. He was where she wanted him. His belief in his power over her mind him blind. She would take it back, slowly and surely. This is what they wanted, after all. For her to learn his secrets, to essentially mean more to him than anything or one else. It was a long time coming to this realization, but she was on a mission first. The last few hours had caused her to forget that, but she wouldn't anymore. He'd reminded her of her task and she would do nothing but work toward it from now on. Her relationships with anyone else would not cloud her judgments.

She would fight to protect herself, and she would embrace whatever darkness he offered. But for right now, she would play the damsel in distress.

"That's what you wanted, right? A friend."

"I found one in Abraxas. I can not allow you to tear that a part."

"I don't want to, don't you see? If you only accept my beliefs and will as your own."

She looked at her hands. "I do believe that the British Ministry is in desperate need of 'elp. You are a talented wizard, Monsieur, I'm sure you can be that savior that they need. But I do not agree with your ways.

"They are all that I have, Miss Granger. What would you have me do? Fight my way to the top with pleasantries?" He chuckled coldly before getting up from his seat and moving over to her. Pushing the teacup to the side, he sat on the edge of the table. "Their failures must be punished, or they will continue to make them. I am helping to better them, ma Cherie. In turn, they will benefit me. Give it a decade or two and everything will be exactly as it should be."

"And how i_z _that, Monsieur Riddle?" She looked but at him.

"Join me, you'll see."

"You're asking me, someone on the run from a dark wizard, to join another? You seem no better, with you Unforgivables and misplaced anger. Do you even know what you really want?"

"I would like you to rejoin high-society, Miss Granger. To reinstate your power and influence."

"No. Absolutely not. I am not safe! I am not sacrificing my life for your sick pleasures."

"I told you you'd be safe here." He frowned, and Hermione realized he just didn't understand. All he was looking for was for her to agree.

She sighed, "I can't reenter a_z_ a Montague."

"Let's think on reentering, okay? It doesn't have to be right away, we can just play up being Dumbledore's goddaughter. But know that it would benefit you greatly, as well, Miss Granger. If the world knows the Montague family remains, they will put more into protecting you. Of course, there wouldn't be a moment that myself or Malfoy, or even the Blacks wouldn't be with you."

Hermione was thankful her didn't try to touch her during his attempt at convincing her. That would have been too much. The harmless look he possessed during his spew was far too comforting and believable. She looked back down at her hands, "I cannot be your follower, either, Monsieur. It would be a dishonor to my family, as they lost their lives to a dark wizard." The tears that filled her eyes were real; her parents _had _died under his hand.

This time, he did place a hand on her shoulder. It was the strangest gesture she'd ever accepted. "I wouldn't ask that of you, Miss Granger." She looked up at him. "Do I have your support?"

The tears spilled onto her checks, and she found she wasn't quite sure what to make of the expression that crossed his face. "You've given me no choice, Monsieur."

Lifting is hand, he brushed his thumb across her wet cheek and rose. "Finish your tea and get some rest; you've had a long day, little witch. We will discuss this more at a later date." He paused in thought, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled over the window. "You will not be disappointed, Mimi."

She noticed that the moonlight was false against his skin.

"I know what the Dark Arts can do to a person, how they call and sing to you as you learn more. It seems like a hobby, like something that will not truly affect you as long as you don't let it. But you can't hold yourself away from it for long. It imbeds itself in your mind, waiting for the right moment to spring into action.

"You're so sweet, ma Cherie. It's almost sickening. I can only wonder what the Darkness within you is waiting for. Perhaps it's me."

She didn't reply. There was nothing else to say.

In the worst way possible, she'd succeeded.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Amazing response since my last post, I'm sooo happy you all enjoyed it. It makes me super happy.  
I'm struggling a bit with officially pulling Hermione over, but I think I'm getting there.  
It didn't get as dark as I expected this chapter, but I still want that warning to hold for the rest of the story.

As always, I'd like to send a big thank you to all of my reviewers! It means the world to me to read about how much you all are enjoying the story and what exactly you liked (or didn't!) in the chapter.

Hopefully everyone is having a good week and enjoyed this update! (:


	9. Precipice

**Disclaimer: **Totally not JK Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Hermione woke up early on Monday morning, and took the extra time to gather herself. She'd gotten Abraxas out of her dorms after dinner the night before, and he'd much healthier than expected. He hadn't given her any more information on Riddle, but that was all right because she got to learn about his family and life instead. Despite the obvious differences, it made her feel as though she were back in the 90s, if only for a few hours.

Instead of venturing into the sitting room, where she'd be able to see some much needed sunlight, she sat alone in her bedroom, staring at the door. The kitten was asleep on her bed, having joined her sometime after midnight, when her neighbor had very creepily checked on her. It was hard, but the last thing the witch wanted to do was think about him. The weekend's events were finally sinking in, and she felt worse than horrible.

In retrospect, she was proud of her actions, as they furthered her mission and helped her to get him to confess to wanting her support, rather than have her fill the role of the follower. Even still, she was second-guessing herself and her actions. Had she been too willing? Should she have fought harder to save Abraxas? It wouldn't do to look at though she held too much sentimental value in people or things, but she also couldn't care too little.

Speaking as Mimi Montague, having everything torn away from her would be a traumatizing experience that would leave the witch cautious with everything. She'd latched on to quickly to Abraxas, in her opinion, making it seem as though she were needy of attention and companionship. Hermione wasn't above admitting that she was, but it was still not incredibly affective. Now, she could only work with what she hadn't done, which meant keeping virtually everyone else at a distance. Except for Riddle. She needed him to need her, and she had to continue to do whatever possible for that to happen.

It was a sad thought to remember. It hurt so greatly to know what she'd already done that it was impossible to consider what she'd feel by the and of it all. Everything was so out of character that she felt her heart trying to convince her that it was all a dream. But, Hermione had always been a practical girl, so she knew better. She would accept everything for what it was and do absolutely everything to keep herself relevant and reliable, first and foremost to the dark wizard.

_To the man that killed my family. _It was a sad, ironic truth that left her feeling very compact within herself, as though pressure were shrinking it. She was no closer to accepting the idea, and she didn't expect that she would. She laughed, short and pathetically.

The kitten awoke, as if sensing her turmoil, and she summoned some of the catnip she'd purchased to keep him occupied. Sadly, she smiled at the little creature and got up from her bench, moving to get dressed for the day. It was impractical, but she needed to speak with Professor Dumbledore right away, and she wanted to make the most of her free breakfast time before Riddle imposed yet another rule on meal times. Leaving the kitten to himself, she packed her bag and slipped out of the dorms without a second thought.

.

.

An hour later found the pair with tea and morning pastries in the professor's sitting room.

Dumbledore was obviously unimpressed. He sat at his personal desk with a frown on his face, shuffling papers in a way that was incredibly uncharacteristic, causing Hermione to fidget in her seat. She'd thought her argument on attempting to practice Black Magic was sound, but his hesitation left her second-guessing herself. It was becoming an incredibly annoying habit.

"I wish I hadn't overlooked your door problem," he stated evenly, choosing to acknowledge the way she prefixed her argument. "Or that you'd told me when he figured out. It's most unfortunate. He'll, undoubtedly, stop at nothing to learn all that he can about the Montague family."

"I've already decided to ask to see whatever texts he reads."

"That would raise suspicion."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can't have him knowing something I don't."

"I see," he said, and she could tell that he did. "I will see what I can do, in terms of getting you a more in-depth family history, to keep in your rooms."

"He has access to my rooms." It was more than she wanted to tell him, but she understood that she had to. "He walked me there the other night, and he got past my wards with no problem. I don't think he knows I realized." _That _was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. She was already living a huge one.

He sighed and rubbed his eyebrows in thought. Finally, he said, "I will get you the books you require." She perked up, interested in the chance at furthering her personal knowledge. "It doesn't feel good to be supplying my goddaughter with books on the Dark Arts."

"The irony doesn't pass me, Uncle," she grinned happily.

"I want you to succeed, more than anything, I suppose." He got up from his seat quickly, as though he needed the conversation to be over instantly. "Go to breakfast, Hermione. Discuss the subject with the Blacks."

"Pardon?"

He continued as though he hadn't heard her, "Cygnus would be ideal, but he isn't the most serious of gentlemen, is he? Orion will do; he is very intelligent and will no doubt be able to guide you in the right direction. It will look good, if nothing else." The professor turned and disappeared into his rooms before she could ask him what exactly he meant.

As she left, she found that the man of the hour –or, her foreseeable future- was waiting for her in the hall. Perhaps Dumbledore had acted so strangely because Riddle had attempted to eavesdrop? Hermione wouldn't put it past him, even if it were a stupid thing to attempt. He looked calm and collected, and quite handsome in his school robes, as though his life were storybook perfect. It was unsettling, and she told him so.

"How so?" He questioned as he offered her arm.

Resisting sighing, she took it and allowed him to lead her away. "You spent _z_e weekend torturing little boys, Monsieur. Surely you feel bad for this." Hermione knew that he wouldn't, but it was worth the try.

"Little boys," he said grandly, chuckling. However, no attempt was made to hide his lack of sympathy, and she thought the action spoke of how he viewed her. It was a blessing and a curse that he didn't seem to deem her as a threat. "You shouldn't waste time worrying about the feelings of others, Miss Granger."

Pulling away from him, Hermione allowed herself to look affronted. "'ow can we be friends if you have no regard to how I may be feeling?"

He considered her very briefly, more humored than she cared to admit. It always forced her to acknowledge that he was human. "Oh, dear," he whispered with a chuckle. "We're at a stalemate."

She turned her nose up and proceeded down the hall. Riddle took stride beside her evenly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Will you be ignoring me now? Please, excuse my disregard for such trivial things. But the opinions and such of others mean nothing to me, and you should realize that truth."

"Surely you see why I would not agree?"

The expression on his face proved that he at least tried to see her side, and she decided that if getting him to consider something separate from himself was the only thing she did today, it would be enough. "I cannot say that I do," he said very diplomatically.

The witch allowed herself to smile at him, and lifted her hand to take his arm again, but thought twice and let it fall back to her side. It seemed to will him closer to her. "Lack of respect to the thoughts of others is what got _ma famille _killed, Monsieur."

"I thought you said you didn't know why they were murdered."

"Ah, oui. But it i_z _an easy inference to make."

He shrugged, "Sure. If you say so. What did you talk to your uncle about?"

She cut her eyes at him, finally understanding why he'd been waiting. "My parents. And things above your compre'ension."

Riddle's displeasure was evident. "I see," he said, she guessed he was talking about being back in the doghouse. _At least that's something he can recognize. _"You will find that I am well aware of the customs of Purebloods."

"I'll give my thanks to Malfoy and _z_e Blacks."

"Yes, ma Cherie, please do so." His shortness told her she'd pushed the limit. But, he hadn't shoved her into the wall yet.

Hermione hummed appreciatively. "I was feeling sad, Monsieur. I miss my family."

"They've been dead for half your life."

She frowned at his lack of tact. Was he trying to hurt her back? "Thank you for the reminder. But, today's woes include _z_e famille I lost last month. They were as good as my parents."

He fell silent, and after a few minutes of walking toward Charms class, she took his arm without his prompting, seemingly comforting herself. The action caused him to swell with something she couldn't quite understand, but it seemed nice. Inside, she felt as though all rationale was being smothered and smoked out.

They arrived at the classroom early and the Head Boy broke in with a careless shrug before leading her over to their desk. The silenced continued, tightening in air around her to the point of discomfort. Just before she imploded, he straightened up in his chair and turned very slightly towards her.

"I know what it's like to be without family," he admitted quietly.

The words draped over her like a heavy armor, closing in around her as though he'd meant them to. In attempt to lighten the mood, she said, "Who knew being orphans would be something we 'ave in common;" but it didn't work.

The silence continued. Slowly, fellow Slytherin and stray Gryffindor began to file in. Riddle's usual lackeys were nowhere to be found, as of yet, giving the opportunity for other seventh years to fill the seats around them. The wizard didn't seem to mind. Instead, he reached over and grasped her hand, fingers slipping over hers in a way that forced her thumb to lie over his knuckles. His hands were warm under hers, soft in a way she hadn't expected, and Hermione instantly pulled out of his hold with a startled gasp.

He barely registered the action. It was as though once he made up his mind to do something, there were no stray feelings and extras to worry about. Riddle was as cool as he'd been when she'd stepped out of Dumbledore's office. In comparison, she missed the first fifteen minutes of the lesson, wondering what had possessed him to touch her like that. It was so alarming that it was beyond the feeling of good or bad, all she knew was the overwhelming feeling of the world collapsing around her. _He will not understand you like I will, _he'd told her after the Knight's meeting, _no one will_.

Hermione worked her throat to keep it from closing up. A murder was offering her comfort. Somehow, she managed not to collapse to the ground from her chair. It wouldn't be incredibly helpful, at any end.

When her mind finally cleared, after getting nowhere productive, he took it upon himself to clasp her hand again. They were sitting closely enough that no one noticed, not even when he set their joining down in his lap, lacing his fingers through hers. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she willed them not to fall. Hermione didn't pull away this time. Instead, she realized that he was left handed, and was thankful that at least one of them was able enough to take notes.

.

.

That evening, Riddle had a meeting with the Head Girl that pulled him out of the House. Hermione lounged in their sitting room with the kitten, which seemed to have found a mouse to attempt to terrorize. The students in the commons were listening to music, surprisingly, and she'd left the door open to listen. It sounded like a juiced up version of Vivaldi, and Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that she'd learn he was a wizard if she asked the right questions.

After more alone time than she ever thought she'd manage, Orion Black stepped into the room with a quiet calm that cut the feel of the room like a knife. The witch had been fretting over Riddle again; having another wizard nearby stabilized her equilibrium. She gave him a welcoming smile, "Join me for tea, Monsieur Black," she greeted before calling for service. "The 'ead boy is in a meeting."

He prepared the first cup, having seated in the armchair to her left. They were in the same position as when they'd first met. "That's fine, Miss Granger. I'm here to speak with you, if you don't mind." He prepared a small plate of fruit for her after passing over the tea. She accepted both pleasantly, nibbling on grapes as he prepared his own cup.

He relaxed quickly, looking around curiously. "It's odd that you and Riddle imagine the room the same way?"

"I don't understand," she smiled unsurely. What on earth as he talking about? What other way would the room be?

"With the window and fire and open space. It's always exactly the same for the both of you." He explained, as though his words meant something.

Then, it dawned on Hermione. The room was similar to that of Requirement, able to change at will. She'd honestly had no idea. Instead of admitting it, she said, "Why mess with perfection, Monsieur?"

"Right," he agreed, and sipped his tea. "I didn't think you capable of what you did on Saturday, Miss Granger. Of course, I knew you were powerful and lovely in your own right, but you strike me as a gentle lady. Very incapable of the show you gave us." He paused thoughtfully, "But you have proven your worth, and shown your support of Riddle's cause far more impressively than any of our other ladies would have. It's assured me of the place you've been given."

"What place i_z _that, exactly?"

He smiled, "Well, we'll see. But you have my everlasting support."

"Merci, Monsieur Black, even if I am a little embarrassed by my actions."

"Don't be. You acted out his will. It's an honor."

Hermione smiled, unsure of how she felt about his words. She ran her thumb over the ring she'd gotten during the Sorting Ceremony, feeling it hum at the attention. The reaction startled her, and she blinked a few to consider what had just happened. Already aware that it was infused with Dark magic, she wondered if it was causing the sinking feeling, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the feel of it feeding on her magic.

"Riddle charmed that one." Orion spoke lowly after finishing his tea. Hermione looked up instantly, brow creasing with a frown. "It's tradition that everyone entering Slytherin house get something; the rings are what the Head Boy of 1938 gave us. He said something about coming full circle and honor," the wizard gave her a charming smile, "Our Lord likes to think himself pure."

"He's not _my _lord, Monsieur Black." She prepared him a fresh cup, which he accepted graciously.

"Sure."

"And, 'e i_z _the heir of Slytherin. You'd do well to remember that."

He looked at her very carefully, as though he were trying to further gage where she stood with Riddle. Hermione resisted smiling triumphantly, finally feeling a sense of control since Saturday evening. After a lengthy silence, Orion sipped his tea and crossed his ankle over his knee.

"He wanted you better connected to your year," he explained. "Usually it's the House Prefects and Head of House that charm them. But he lifted that one and did it himself. Curious, really. Abraxas said he was adamant about doing it."

"Generous is _z_e word I would use," she sipped her own tea and smiled as the kitten hopped onto the couch to snuggle into her lap. The fire had died, and a chill was hanging low in the air. "Monsieur Riddle est très généreux."

"He is, isn't he?" He seemed believing of the statement, and Hermione was again awed at how much faith these boys had in their leader. In a few minutes, he'd taken a stab at Riddle and praised him with obvious reverence twice. Orion had been level headed and annoyingly confident in all of her dealings with him, and everything about him shouted of an intelligence that couldn't be denied. How he'd gotten caught up with the future tyrant was beyond the witch. Riddle must possess a power she'd yet to witness, and the realization struck cold within her. She'd yet to truly see what he could be. He was priming her, putting in the groundwork so that when she finally got to view his true self, she would be prepared.

She sat straighter in her seat and rubbed the cat for comfort. Although she'd known everything would get worse, she hadn't realized how hard it would be on her. He was so smart it hurt. The weight of everything seemed to smother life out of her.

"He will do many great things," Orion mulled to himself before looking at her with empty eyes. "Why don't you wear your emblem over your blouse?" He nodded at the chain he could see, slipping over her collarbones and beneath her uniform shirt.

She touched the invisible chain thoughtfully. It was reassuring to know that they were questioning her purity; their curiosity was exactly what she needed. Thankfully, her mind cleared enough for her to think her way to a reasonable answer. "I don't care to broadcast my bloodline, Monsieur. _Z_ere are more important things."

"You have no pride in your family?"

"My family is dead. All I can do now i_z _make myself available for a new one."

It was new news for him, and Hermione found herself wanting to thank Abraxas and Riddle for their discretion. She thumbed the ring again, appreciating the life that vibrated through it. "I'm incredibly sorry I've already signed my marriage proposal, then." The truth of the statement was obvious. "Though, I suppose your interest lies with the Lord, and subsequently his right hand."

_Riddle and Abraxas. _She gave him a soft smile, sipped her tea, and then set the cup on the saucer. "I am flattered at your interest," Hermione shot him an overtly flirty look, catching him by so much surprise that he laughed heartily. She knew it wasn't common for Pureblood witches to be so forward, but it _was _flattering to know that Orion was interested in her, even if they couldn't get married.

He was quite handsome, she noted suddenly. He'd always been so cold and clinical with her that the idea that he could be attractive had never been a considerable thought. Sure, she could see him, but now she could truly take him in. He was more handsome than his son, even if he wasn't as honest looking. Notably, he kept his curls long, but brushed into a braid rather than letting it hang loosely, like his cousin was ballsy enough to do. Like Abraxas, he had the subtle air of old-blood around him, one that she could only hope she also emitted. It made him more alluring, speaking of his family's power and influence.

If the situation was all true, she would be sorry he'd signed the contract as well.

"Being a Dumbledore will encourage many families to break ties, if you expressed interest. Sure, they've had a bit of controversy," he smiled at the reference to Aberforth, and Hermione allowed herself a small giggle, covering her mouth with false embarrassment. "But, with such a lovely witch, excuses will be made."

"Are you volunteering, Monsieur?"

He gave her a handsome smile, "I'm encouraging you to wear your emblem proudly."

"He's right, Miss Granger. Let everyone know your value," Riddle spoke, dragging someone in by his ear. It turned out to be Abbott, followed by a grim Abraxas and out-of-character Cygnus. Without explanation, he continued, "Lack of pride in such a lineage is deadly." The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the music.

Malfoy seemed to notice her then, and shot Riddle an even darker look at broadcasting her status. Orion, who was already standing before his Lord, glanced nervously at the witch and moved to stand with his cousin, who'd dropped the bleak look long enough to give her a genuine smile. The ringleader vanished the tea table and let Abbott fall to the ground about three feet from Hermione, where he smartly remained.

"You remember this vermin, don't you, dear?" The dark wizard looked at her with the same eyes he'd had during the meeting. He came to sit beside her, as though keeping up a reserved appearance. The kitten crawled into his lap and he scratched it absentmindedly. "Sit, Knights. We have a traitor to discuss."

Hermione hesitated. This was the last place she wanted to be, not when she had only just cleared her mind of the fog that was Riddle. "Stay, Miss Granger. This pertains to you."

"Pardon?"

"Abbott here has been spreading rumors about you, ma douce," Abraxas announced, shocking her. _My sweet. _She hoped desperately that he wouldn't like that pet name either. Hermione let her eyes slip over to Orion, who was looking at her with an 'I told you so" look; she squinted coldly at him before looking back at Abraxas. He was scowling at the boy cowering on the floor, reminding her very much of his son. "Something about being a liar," he grinned knowingly at her, "and a fucking Mudblood." His swearing shocked her stiff; _that _was not something you did in front of ladies of this time.

"I speak the truth!" Abbott bellowed. "She is not one of us, my Lord. What is a Granger? No family I've heard of. She will be your downfall, my Lord." Abbott kissed at Riddle's feet, but he kicked him away.

Cygnus began to belittle him for disrespecting her, and Hermione remained calm in her seat. It was a natural reaction, someone you don't know being a danger to you. Still, too much had happened in one day to sit well with her. She fidgeted, and moved closer to the wizard beside her. Surprisingly, he draped an arm over the back of the couch and let his fingers draw lazily over her shoulder before relaxing into the cushions. It was such an affectionate show that Hermione found herself wondering why he'd been so odd all day.

It was already decided that he was priming her for their official joining, for lack of better terminology. Showing his affections in front of others meant effectively marking his territory, but she'd already shown his Knights what side she was on when she sat before them at their first meeting, torturing that poor boy. It wouldn't make sense that he actually wanted to touch her. Sure, she was a teenaged boy with needs, these weren't actions done for relief. They were done because you wanted to. It made her head hurt, and his fingers burned through the fabric of her shirt, filling her to the brim with smoke. She's never noticed before, but the ring seemed to come alive at his touch. As though it'd gotten a taste of something and craved more. _Riddle charmed that one, _Orion had told her, _he was adamant about doing it himself. _Hermione found herself shaking, wondering what he'd done.

He let his hand fall heavy on her shoulder in a stabilizing gesture, drawing her attention back to the scene before her. The boy in question had been moved away from she and Riddle, and the Knights were standing over him in a way that shielded Hermione very slightly from viewing what was occurring.

"And they say Hufflepuffs are trustworthy," Orion spoke lowly, frowning down on Abbott. He remained as calm as he was always, which was just as scary as Riddle's completely personality change when meeting with his Knights. He kicked him in the face, boot coming in contact with his jaw violently. The crunching sound echoed in Hermione's ears. Idly, she realized no one had drawn their wand. They'd been beating him like Muggles.

"Why did you trust a 'ufflepuff, Monsieur Riddle?" She whispered.

He turned and smirked at her. "They have a strong name in the Wizarding world, Miss Granger. Not to mention, he is more than willing to provide funds for whatever venture I have in mind." His whisper cooled her warming body, but it was still hard to focus on anything but the fact that the world was pressing closer. "And those Abbotts are so very eager to prove their worth."

"Loyal," Orion spat before squatting over the Hufflepuff's facedown body. Cygnus chuckled darkly from where he stood, and Abraxas crossed his arms over his chest. Grabbing Abbott by the hair, he lifted his head so that they could both look at Hermione. The next few sentences out of his mouth caused her stomach to drop. "Do you see her, Henry? She is connected honorably to the Malfoy Family, and House of Black. Our Lord has seen her worth and accepted her. Surely, you understand what that means? _This_ is the face of someone loyal, Henry," he spoke against the boy's ear. "So loyal, in fact, that she is far beyond any graces you might have had with our Lord. Now, apologize to the Lady."

Hermione looked disgustedly at the bloodied boy, taking in his blackened eye and busted lip. His nose seemed to be cracked, jaw limp within its fragile hold. She noticed he wasn't too keen on apologizing, and decided that it just wouldn't do to have anyone doubting her. Not if Tom Riddle preferred them, even partially. He couldn't have any pesky flies in his ears as she worked. The witch tutted lowly, moving to sit on the edge of the couch. _Do or die, Hermione._

"I was rooting for you, Monsieur Abbott, to prove me wrong," she spoke in a measured voice, a small smile on her lips. It was her best attempt at being Riddle, which seemed to work quite well. She noticed Orion's expression change to display awe very briefly before refocusing on the threat. Finally, he seemed worried.

"But it seems that you 'ave only lived up to what I have heard of Hufflepuff. Poor excuses for Magical folk, really. Pure or muddy, you're all _z_e same." She sighed, twirling her wand between her fingers.

Against the wall, the clock chimed nine times. Riddle dismissed his Knights, thanking them for their assistance as he moved to stand over Abbott, leaving the little cat in his empty place. Both Blacks kissed her hand before leaving, Orion giving her a bow that spoke of the mountains he'd climbed to accept her. She was more than just fresh air to him now.

Malfoy kneeled before her very closely, peering into her eyes with a curious expression. "Where's my girl?" He whispered very lowly, gripping her right hand. It hurt more then she cared to admit. What was one more lie?

As he stood, she realized that he'd passed her something. Before he moved away, she silently vanished it to her desk, causing him to smile softly. "Goodnight, Mimi."

"Walk me to breakfast in the morning," she requested, and he nodded his okay. After they cleared out, Riddle turned to look at her calculatingly. It was only then that she realized his foot was pressing into the poor boys back. "Why didn't they use magic?"

"It's insulting to the wizard being dominated to beat them like a Muggle. It means they are below magic."

She nodded understandingly. "What are we going to do with 'im now, Monsieur?"

He gave her the weird 'I'd-like-to-smile' smirk. "We, Miss Granger? Did you enjoy Malfoy at your feet so greatly that you'd like to be _we_?"

"Are you teasing me?" She looked at him skeptically. "You 'ave made me a part of this, of course I consider us 'we.'"

"You looked quite lovely with him by your feet," he replied thoughtfully before looking down at the indisposed wizard. Taking his foot off his back, Riddle used the toe of his Dragon hide shoes –a different pair than the ones from his meeting, she noticed; more worn and charming- to flip him onto his back. Blood had pooled on the floor from his nose and mouth.

She frowned disgustedly and he chuckled. "You'll cover his flesh wounds so they can't be recognized, and I'll make sure he won't speak of this. Then, we'll call a meeting for tomorrow night to address any uncertainty my Knights may have nourished since Saturday." He looked up at her, "I wouldn't usually entertain such shallow doubt in my followers, but I promised you safety, ma Cherie."

Hermione swallowed to clear her throat. That was a bucket of ice, if there ever was any. "Thank you, then."

He ignored her. "Come here, Miss Granger."

She did as she was told.

Riddle brushed his knuckles over the curve of her jaw, pointing his wand at the wizard on the floor. "You'll stand by me from now on, won't you?" She nodded. "Good girl," he smirked and mumbled a curse that caused Abbott to shake as though he were having a seizure. His magic melted over her skin and cleared her mind, causing her eyes to fall closed at the peace.

"You understand now, Lady Montague. They can't know you like I know you. Be here for you the way I can." He cupped her jaw to catch her eyes, watching as they opened slowly. He preformed another curse, and the injured boy began to sob, begging for her forgiveness and his Lord's mercy.

She shook her head and stepped away from him. "I'm not like you, Monsieur."

"You're better, I know. But, that's what makes this so amazing." The statement was so genuine that Hermione wasn't sure where it came from. As he lifted the curse, she waved her wand to vanish all the obvious signs of stress and injury. "But I'm good for you. You'll see." It was so obvious that he was only convincing her. The _Imperio_ he cast caused her to sway with relief, and she decided she needed to get out of the room and rid of the ring. It had to be the ring. She moved to collect her kitten and cast him one last, fleeting look.

His smirk was very soft as he whispered after her form, "Goodnight, ma Cherie."

.

A little after midnight, Hermione awoke to the realization that it wasn't the ring, at least not completely. It was her. The sinking, sweltering, suffocating feelings she'd been experiencing all day was her fighting off the darkness. The books she read and loved were coming to life within her. She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or afraid, so she decided on neither. Instead, she rolled out of bed and slipped into her robe. Her bedroom door was ajar, which was not how she'd left it before falling asleep. Grabbing a Dark text she'd been avoiding, she padded down the hall to the sitting room.

Tom was still there, dressed differently, but not quite the way she was. The Siamese was lounging beside him as he read from her French-to-English potions book. She didn't care that he was teaching himself French or that he entered her rooms so often that it seemed he liked them more than his own. Or even that her familiar liked him more. Instead, she sat on the other edge of the couch, facing him with her knees up.

"Does your offer still stand?" She asked quietly. Excitement hummed through her, though it was unclear if it was because of the opportunity to learn or the book she was holding.

He turned his eyes on her, "Whatever you'd like to master, that is in my power, I will gladly teach."

"And I will accept my role."

"As my most valued supporter," he smirked kindly.

She wondered if that was the same as being a girlfriend, but it didn't matter. The pressure seemed to release, and calm swept through her as though she'd been dosed with something.

"As your most valued supporter," she repeated with a swallow. The couch morphed into a small loveseat, upsetting the kitten enough to force him to jump off and move over the fire. Tom reached over and rested a hand on her foot, fingers slipping under her pajama pants to ghost over her ankles.

"Wear the emblem over your blouse, charm it so that people notice it's prestige, but don't hold onto what they're seeing. We can put it away after a few days," he told her with finality.

Hermione opened the book and began to read, hiding her smile when he pulled his own family chain over his collar. It wasn't the dreadful locket he'd turned into a horcrux; it was something too handsome to describe. The Slytherin emblem wasn't something she was even aware existed as a family relic, and she realized that his displaying it was just as risqué as her own. Again, his actions spoke volumes as to how he felt about her.

The emeralds in his necklace sparkled almost as brightly as her success.

* * *

**Author's Note: **As always, thank you so much to everyone favoriting/following/reviewing, as well as all of you just checking in ^-^ It means so much to me that so many your are enjoying this (specially after the less than stellar review my sister gave me).

I'm very happy you all are enjoying this version of dark Hermione. I'm hoping to keep her true to herself, although she's got this task to take care for. As for the idea of Black Magic, it's basically, it's a sect of Dark Magic that requires the caster to be pure of blood and mind, so if Hermione can practice it...oh man. Still debating this one. More to come. Also, I will attempt a few more chapters in Tom's POV, though I can't guarantee that they'll be as long.

Hopefully everyone enjoyed this update! It was a bit stiff, but it's my favorite yet. Something about characters derailing always makes me really happy (and, I mean, one step closer to the Tomione action, right?).  
The next one may not be available until Friday, but I'll do my best.


	10. Allies

**Disclaimer: **I'm not JK Rowling, therefore I am not profiting off of her lovely world.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The week passed with little fanfare. Tom's meeting had run smoothly, and by that Saturday night it seemed that he was the only person who hadn't realized the pedestal she stood upon. He was content to stand back and watch, smirking as his followers pressed their lips to her hand, offering kind words as though she were a queen. Hermione was worried that they'd grow to resent her, which could only lead to larger problems for her. However, she was hesitant to express such worries with the Dark wizard for fear of what he might do to ease them. It was still early, and they enjoyed her presence now.

She had other woes to focus on, at any rate. The majority of them were built on her Slytherin boys, but Slughorn and Dumbledore were becoming increasingly pesky as well. The former professor had expressed interest in her joining his little annoying club, which was currently exclusive to wizards. She wasn't worried about being the only witch, per se; her dilemma was that she'd become the focal point, which wouldn't fare well for her future self. Although…Hermione looked up from her journal and stared blankly into the library.

All of the curious glances she'd received from Slughorn now made sense. The intense focus on her family and misplaced humor about her being a Muggleborn, all as though he knew something she didn't. The witch wanted to bang her head against the table at the realization, and began to scribbly fiercely in her journal, continuously connecting her current time with her proper time.

Dumbledore was another story. He'd grown very adamant about her staying as under-photographed and below the radar as possible. His sudden distress for her future self was unsettling. Unfortunately, he wasn't too keen on sharing the reason for his nervousness. For as worried about her as he was, he also grew fearful of her. It was as though he was shutting her out now that she'd 'gone dark,' which was a horrible rumor going around the school, now that she was 'dating' Tom Riddle. It was all a load of rubbish, and she was very sad that he seemed to believe it. Sure, it meant that she was doing her job properly, but it _hurt. _He was the only one who knew her, after all.

The Blacks were her second largest problem. Cygnus had teased her relentlessly about her new relationship status, despite knowing there was nothing romantic between the pair. He was undoubtedly the reason the entire school believed them to be an item. It was complete crap, and paired with Orion's subtle but incredibly obvious flirting (which really deserved it's own page for potential problems), she was a great subject for the students to gossip on. They were, apparently, in the middle of a very odd love triangle, that neither boy seemed eager to correct. It was obvious that it was nothing new for them, which was quite odd, and very upsetting for her reputation. Tom, however, found great amusement in the hearsay, and Abraxas was incredibly upset.

He was her largest problem, which was unfortunate. Despite having pushed her towards Tom (and no doubt having pushed Tom toward her), he was unimpressed by actually seeing them together. It wasn't that Abraxas wanted her for himself, it really seemed as though he were looking after her. As charming as it was, it didn't help her at all. She wanted him desperately on her side, and as far away as possible. His care for her only drew her deeper into the 40s.

The letter he'd given her the night they'd nearly beaten the life out of Abbott had been from his father. _His father! _Septimus Malfoy had written her handsomely in his own hand, wanting to express his thanks for the honor she'd "bestowed" on his son and the Malfoy name. It was dreadfully polite and assuming, informing her that she'd have the protection of the surname and all of the power awarded to it on her side. _What was that! _He'd even invited her to spend winter holiday at the Manor, and the irony was so thick around her that she wanted to share the humor with Tom.

It was a very horrifying realization, but she'd become Mimi Montague. There would be no turning back now. She wouldn't be able to bow out quietly when it was time to go. His Knights would question him, as would the Malfoys and her Blacks. Dumbledore would look suspicious if he didn't cause ruckus over her going missing, and Tom would no doubt face accusations, with her being closely tied to him.

Hermione dropped her quill with a shaky hand. She'd just been worrying about what would happen to Tom when she left. To _Tom_, when had that even happened? Before she could sink into hysterics, someone slid into the seat across from her, smiling handsomely. She had to blink a few times, but realized it was Abraxas with a great relief. He'd been avoiding spending any time alone with her.

"I missed you at breakfast," he spoke hesitantly.

"I've been 'ere since I woke up."

"Hiding?" He smiled, plopped his bag onto the table, and passed her a small package of fruit and a muffin. "Just don't let the Hag see you," he winked, referring to the hook-nosed librarian. Hermione smiled her thanks as he set up his books to study.

The wizard took a deep breath. "I have not been a very good friend to you, Mimi," he told her, pushing a small package across the table.

She eyed it carefully, not wanting to accept it. "Your _père_ has already given me _you_, Monsieur. I 'ardly need anything else."

The wizard worked his jaw very briefly. "Yes, well. Classic Septimus for you. Please," he pushed the present closer.

Sensing the bad blood, she reached out and ran her fingers over the soft fabric of the box. "It's too much," she mumbled, knowing it was jewelry, and he shrugged. "Merci."

He nodded as she tucked it into her bag, deciding to open the gift when no one would be around to see it. "So, you and Riddle, huh?"

She pursed her lips and cut her eyes at him, not feeling any reassurance in his teasing smile. It was easy to tell that he believed his inquiry to be at least partially true; and it was, unfortunately. "We aren't romantically involved."

Finding solace in that, he hesitated only briefly before saying, "Emotionally isn't advisable, either. I hoped that your relationship would be power based. It hadn't occurred to me that you all would be so in sync with one another."

_In sync?_ Hermione frowned, "Pardon? Riddle and I are still very independent of each other."

It was obvious that he didn't believe her. "I get that. I just…he spends a lot of time with you. And everything he gets his hands on he destroys." It was a quiet admittance that squeezed her heart. "I want you powerful and strong and protected from Grindelwald. Not at the feet another Dark Lord."

"Dark Lord," Hermione mumbled, playing with her fingers. It was the first time she'd heard anyone of this time refer to Tom by such a name, and it reminded her of all the terror he was causing in her proper time. What was terrifying was that she felt numb to it.

"Mimi," he attempted to get her attention.

"I am not at his feet, and I will not be." Reaching across the table, she grasped his hand in hers. "I am so grateful for your support and love, Monsieur. You 'ave no idea how much it means to me. But I," she looked down at the tabletop and considered her words. She wanted to be honest with him, but it was all so hard. "I feel this tingling all over my body, this sinking feeling _z_at I am sure will pull me under by _z_e end of the day. And then Monsieur Riddle is there, like 'e knows, his fingers lacing through mine. And everything goes quiet, I feel like myself. Like _ma famille _is still alive and _z_ere are sunflowers in the garden and my home is still accessible. For so long, it's all I've wanted, to not let _z_e darkness consume me. I…I would understand if you do not understand."

He stared at her for a long time, and Hermione felt tears gathering in her eyes because of all she'd admitted to him. For as much as she'd seem to disappoint him, she'd disappointed herself even more. It was the truth, and it caused her whole being to ache. She'd just proven that she was dependent on Tom, which was not part of her plan. It was obvious that it was a part of his though, and it distressing to know she'd played right into it.

Slowly, Abraxas got up, letting her hand fall onto the table. She looked down at her lap and closed her eyes to keep herself together. Barely seconds had passed before she felt him sit down next to and embrace her. It was so comforting that she broke down for the second time since school started.

Again, he just help her a little closer. When she finally calmed down, he forced her to face him and brushed stray hair back toward her braid. "Might I see your arm, Miss Granger?" Abraxas took her left arm at her nod, unbuttoned the cuff and smoothed his fingers over her bared wrist.

He sighed with a relief that peeked her interest, and lifted her pulse point to his lips. Hermione hadn't noticed any brands marring his flesh when he'd used her bath, but she also hadn't been looking much beyond the heavy darkness of the Dark Mark. Could it be that they had something else? "You're not alone in your feelings of his divinity."

**That **was not something she wanted to here. Being compared to his Knights was the very last thing she ever wanted for herself, and she was unable to suppress the shudder that pulsed through her. She stared at him with wide eyes, searching his cobalt orbs for something more. When it was evident he wouldn't give her anything more, Hermione turned her wrist out of his hold and laced her fingers through his.

"I don't know if that i_z _reassuring or not."

He smiled sadly, "I wish I could be more to you." The truth in his words were obvious; as much as Abraxas wanted she and Tom together, he wanted her independent from him as well. She vowed to herself that she'd do her best to keep her head, if not for herself than for him.

"I just need you to be 'ere for me. To be my friend," she whispered.

His smile became more cheerful, forcing her to feel better. "I can do one better," he shook their hands with genuine excitement, shimming his shoulders in a very un-Malfoy gesture. It caused her to laugh, which made his eyes sparkle with success. "You are an honorary Malfoy, after all, _ma soeur._"

With their relationship fixed and his worries alleviated, the pair began to banter in French. Neither noticed the Dark wizard watching them from a nearby bookshelf.

.

.

Tom sat by the Black Lake feeling immensely confident. The air around him felt sweet with accomplishment, and as he leaned back on his elbows he considered what his next move with the witch would be. At this point, he felt comfortable enough to stop planning, but didn't want to. He was sure that her reactions to him would always bring him quite a bit a joy, which was surprising in a way that most things weren't. Seeing his Knights frightened beneath him is what usually brought him joy, after all; witches were often little more than physical pleasure.

The thought caused him to frown slightly. He wasn't above admitting Granger's beauty and intelligence, but it was a bit of shock to realize he didn't have it in his mind to bed her. Perhaps…the Dark wizard pushed himself up, throwing a rock into the water. He needed her beneath him, craving everything he could give her, wanting only his happiness, and until then he wouldn't be able to think of such basic desires as sex. With his generation's post powerful families under his guidance, the Wizarding World would be his soon enough, and that vision satisfied him greater than any witch could.

Still, the less rational side of himself rattled in its bonds. It was an uncomfortable feeling, realizing he hadn't been sexually inclined since arriving at Hogwarts. His lack of interest in anyone other than Granger had been noticed, and unless he was planning on permanently aligning himself with her, something needed to be done. _Something, indeed._

He stood and dusted his slacks off before strolling toward the castle. She wouldn't be a bad witch to connect himself to, and he didn't need any of Malfoy's advising to decide that. After discovering her purity, everything seemed to fall into place, as though she'd been his all along.

Tom continued to frown as he walked.

He'd told her she'd never be a follower, and meant it, in exchange for her support. But to make her truly his own? Having her reliant on him…it was something he needed desperately, but didn't want. She already calmed in his presence, sat with him in the evenings, even questioned him on concepts he'd yet to consider fully. Her ability to feel comfortable with him after seeing what he was capable of was inspiring, and he wanted to see how far he could go with her. He needed to see how far she could go with him. However, that sort of bond could be dangerous for himself.

It was sickening, but he liked the time they spent together. During the evenings he conferenced with individual Knights, or slipped out of the castle on business, Tom would return the their sitting room to find the witch reading quietly, her eyes sleepy and smile sweet. Despite how he was feeling, he'd sit down with his own book, because that was what one did when they wanted something from another. They made that person comfortable and happy.

Of course, it helped that her energy was soothing, and brought more comfort than another person really should. That wasn't something he would dwell anymore on. She'd been a lovely gift to him from another Dark wizard, and he would treat her as carefully as anyone with something so precious would.

Even if it meant compromising himself.

.

.

Later that day, Hermione allowed herself to enjoy the study tables in the commons, not wanting anyone in her House to think her inaccessible or stuck up. She'd gotten a few books on theories within Dark Magic and decided that it was safer to read them where prying eyes wouldn't think much beyond common interest. Halfway through a heated essay on growing a dead body, a Knight slunk into the seat next to her, turning his chair appropriately. Obviously, today was some sort of confessional for them, as she'd had three other boys stop her to chat about ways they'd wronged their Lord and how they could go about fixing them. It was beyond the witch as to why they would even consider coming to _her_, but she didn't complain. Often, it's the person you expect the least from to help you the most.

"Lady Granger," an annoyingly smooth and confident voice spoke. She looked at him with a very soft smile on her face, still incredibly unnerved by Perseus Burke. His nearly black eyes and strawberry blonde hair made it hard for her to trust him; not to mention the fact that despite being very handsome, the wizard looked like a snake. His entire demeanor was off, and she was unsure why Tom even trusted the seemingly more-sneaky-than-average Slytherin.

"Monsieur Burke," she spoke evenly, setting her book aside and lacing her fingers in her lap.

"Have you seen Riddle?" His voice spiked with false curiosity, as though he knew something she didn't. Hermione was quite sure that he did, if she were honest with herself. She couldn't help but feel that he would be her downfall, as though she should be more afraid of him than of Tom, and _that _was the scariest thought of all. Someone else being the mastermind behind the Dark Lord? As much sense as it didn't make, she wouldn't allow herself the luxury of ignoring the possibility. Something was going to go wrong, whether it was her leaving or something else had yet to be discovered.

"Non, Monsieur. Not since the meeting last night."

He nodded thoughtfully, a look of pleasure slipping over his face. The witch straightened in her seat as he said, "Good, good. He's working. That's good. I've been meaning to chat with you, anyway. How do you do?"

She stared blankly at him for a moment, waiting for him to grow uncomfortable. When he shifted very slightly, his smile faltered for barely a second. Blinking would have caused her to miss it. She resisted cheering at the small victory. "A little tired, honestly. But, nothing a little pea_z_e and quiet cannot fix."

"Please excuse my pestering then, Lady Granger, but I do believe this conversation is most important. Perhaps we could move someplace more private?"

"No, thank you. I don't make it a habit of being alone with young men I do not know."

He inclined his head, "You know Riddle then?"

"More so than you'd think," she gave him a very coy smile that caused him to scowl at her. It was the most honest thing she'd ever seen him do.

"And Malfoy? He's never mentioned you a day in his life. I know, Granger, because we've been friends since we were in diapers."

"He i_z _like a brother to me," she said thoughtfully, trading in coy for fondness. "Very dear, very sweet."

Burke's looks of disgust increased before he resumed his pleasantly amused yet bored look. Hermione found herself increasingly upset about him in general. Who on earth did he think he was, questioning her? Before she could voice the question, he continued.

"Yes, sweet is surely the word I would use to describe Abe," he chuckled, and it was somehow colder than Tom's. The witch was sure it was because of all the sugary charm that thickened the tone. "Anyhow, Lady Granger, I _am _sorry to bring this up, but I am immensely worried about your status."

"Pardon?" She questioned, looking at him with a bit of disgust.

His eyes widened with another honest expression: embarrassment. "Oh, no, Lady Granger. Not your bloodline, please excuse my not being clear. I'm well aware of your purity. I only meant within our cause, Lady Granger."

"I see," she pursed her lips, waiting for him to continue.

"Yes, yes. You see, we have been feeling a little worried over your relationship with Riddle," the honest innocence in his voice was deceptive. "It's not natural for him to be so smitten with someone."

Hermione resisted laughing at the idea of Tom being smitten with her. Sure, he seemed to like her quite a bit and built her up beautifully before his followers, but smitten? No. He simply knew she was worth something, and didn't want to ruin the chance of having a say in how much. _Smitten_, she said sweetly in mind, smiling openly at the wizard before her. "I can't say my relationship with Monsieur Riddle i_z_ anyone's business but our own."

He blinked a few times, something she noticed he did when he was processing information. "Of course. But sitting in on our meetings is hardly becoming for a lady such as you. None of our other Lady Slytherin would even consider joining us. Your obvious interest in him will not only distract his heart but also fill his mind with unnecessary thoughts. He should be focused on our goals, first and foremost. If you noticed, no Knight has a girlfriend. It's for that reason."

She allowed her eyes to narrow, "And you believe Monsieur Riddle to be as weak minded as his Knights? He is _z_e one guiding you, of course he is stronger and more sure of himself. To be 'distracted' by myself? Ah, oui oui, I would be honored. But you know nothing of what you speak of, that i_z_ for sure.

"You were at the meeting, Burke. You know that I am not a Knight, nor a slave to the goals and aspirations of you-know-who, such as the other bright witches of Slytherin. What I offer him and what you offer him are very different, and you'd do well to remember _z_at."

"You mean sex, then?" He asked crudely, very sure of himself.

Hermione resisted slapping him. She would simply show him her anger at the first chance she got to teach him "a lesson," as Tom liked refer to torturing his Knights. Idly, she wondered what he really thought he was getting out of this. Sure, she'd never seen Riddle even look angrily in Burke's direction, but he obviously suspected the amount of power she'd been given. All she had to do was mention that she'd been wronged in someway, and not only Tom, but Abraxas and the Blacks would all be quick to solve her problems. Perhaps he wanted to see just how far Riddle would go for her? However, that didn't make much sense either. There was easier ways to upset her than to insult both she and Tom at the same time.

"The truth, Monsieur Burke."

"Call it what you will, witch. We're all well aware of the charms of the French."

"That's enough, Burke," a voice interrupted. It wasn't one she recognized, but as a mass of dark, closely cut curls stepped between she and Perseus, as though to guard her, and she realized it was another Black. "You've no right to insult Miss Granger like that, and I take it as a personal offense. Please apologize and remove yourself from the commons."

The strawberry blonde rose from his seat in a very dignified fashion, as though he knew nothing would be done if he chose to remain. "Little Alphard," he clapped him on the shoulder, "will I be seeing you at our next meeting? Or are you still not quite old enough?"

Hermione sighed, banished her things to her room, and stood grandly, deciding that the last thing she wanted was for an argument to start. "I will let your Lord know that his Knights are doubting him. I'm sure he will do his best to ease such worries," she said with a polite smile. As the words fell from her mouth, she could see his skin turn grey at the thought of Tom knowing such information. Scowling, he walked away, and the curly haired wizard turned to her.

"Merci, Monsieur. I'm quite grateful for your interruption."

He smiled at her, and it was so crooked and charming she felt her heart melt on the spot. This would be the man who'd be blasted off the wall for leaving his run-a-way nephew the means to support himself; someone Sirius may have even idolized. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and thank him for more than he would ever really know.

"I'm sorry for not getting here sooner, Miss Granger. Nothing suitable ever leaves Burke's mouth. I'm Alphard Black, by the way, Cygnus' brother."

She offered her hand and he kissed it. "Pleased to meet you, Alphard. You may call me Mimi," she smiled happily. _This _was the type of relationship she wanted to start. He wasn't connected to Voldemort; he helped someone who only wanted to do the right thing. Nothing with him would be more of a lie than it had to be. "It i_z _so lovely to know such kindness runs in your family."

He laughed heartily, "Not exactly, Mimi. We were simply raised as gentlemen should be. Now: your presence is requested at quidditch practice," he smiled again, and it was only then that she realized he was in his practice gear.

"Really?"

"You're good luck, little charmer. Of course we'd want you there." He offered his arm, and she took it, happy to have another Black on her side. The pair chattered amicably during the walk, Alphard making pitiful attempts at French to make her laugh.

Later, she'd voice her anger to Abraxas under the guise of not wanting to upset Tom. Now, she'd enjoy her time with her Slytherin boys.

.

.

"Where 'ave you been, Monsieur?" Hermione asked as she pulled her door open, shocked to find Tom in one piece on the other side of it. No one had seen him since the meeting to Saturday night, and Hermione wasn't too proud to say she'd been a little worried. At his smirk, she held her robe a little closer, frowning as he slipped in and over to her bed.

"Well, you no longer have a kitten here, Miss Granger," he smirked at the little creature curling into the warmth she'd left behind before scooping him up and taking her place in the bed. Thankfully, he kept his dirtied boots off the edge. "Were you worried, dear? It warms my heart."

"You look horrible," she told him, sitting on the bench at the foot of her bed.

"I feel successful," he almost smiled, but a dark happiness did fill his eyes. It was the most emotional she'd ever seen him, and decided it was quite endearing. "I want to tell you what I've been up to."

She leaned over the edge of the bed, laying on her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. Keeping her expression open and curious, she gave him a brilliant smile. "I'd love it if you did."

"I'm sure you would, little witch," he said thoughtfully. "Have we decided on a name for him?" He asked quietly, scratching at the Siamese's ears.

"We?" She teased him, trying not to be too upset about him not telling her where he'd been. It was easy to assume it'd been to find the Founder's items or kill some poor souls, but she wanted to hear it for herself. However, there would be plenty of time for that.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Are you leaving me already, Miss Granger? Should I be worried about your little chat with Perseus this weekend?" And flushed and he scowled, "The mice always come out to play, don't they?"

"I'll have you know that I'd be interested in _z_at redhead boy McGonagall is dating before I'd ever be interested in your slimy little Knight," she sniffed.

He chuckled, "He never did know how to speak with a witch who wasn't throwing herself at him." Eyeing her carefully, his eyes fell down to her wrist, "What's that?"

She looked down at the bracelet Abraxas had given her with a smile, thumb gliding over the cool stones. It was the flashiest things she'd ever been given, a mixture of dark emeralds and gold that seemed to glow brighter once it'd drawn someone's attention. "A gift from Malfoy."

"Is he courting you?"

She frowned and sat up, "Non, Monsieur. It was just a gift."

"You don't just give gifts to random witches, Granger."

"I am not random! 'e and I are dear friends, and I'm very insulted at your insinuation," she got up from the bench and put some distance between them.

"Believe what you want, but I'm sure he is interested in making you a Malfoy. They care for only the purest of blood, it's worth more than all their fortune, and I have no doubts that Dumbledore is in talks with his father."

"I see you have the same thoughts of me as your followers then, Monsieur," she told him sourly. It was amazing how properly he could ruin a moment, as thought he wasn't happy until he knew everyone around him was miserable and obsessed with him. "I'm sorry, but you need to leave."

He frowned at her as though her were confused. "You don't believe the Knights respect you?"

"The mice did come out to play," she told him as she folded her arms over her chest.

"I see," he said, and that was it, as though everything had magically fixed itself. "I think we should name him Tom Junior," he smirked, refocusing on the cat.

Hermione blinked and then scowled, "Not ever, Monsieur. I like Bartholomew." The kitten hissed as Tom reeled backwards with disgust. The matching reaction caused her to smile, and she sat down on the couch by the glass. "Mashki," she said quietly, and the Siamese perked up, wiggling out of the wizards hold to make his was way over to his Mistress. "Finally, right little Mashki?" She smiled and cuddled him to her chest.

Looking back to Tom, she realized he was watching her curiously.

"I was in Ireland, ma Cherie, making some new friends."

"Sure," she looked at him skeptically.

He smirked, "Alright, you got me. Allies, I was making allies. Seems like Grindelwald is in the country."

"Oh, no," Hermione allowed fear to fall over her face. She got up in a panic, "I have to go talk to Oncle Dumbledore."

He got up quickly, stepping over to her and smoothing a hand over her unruly hair before taking her face in his hands. "Didn't we just go over this? Nothing is going to harm you while you're here." When the fire in her eyes died out, he continued, "I'm keeping tabs him, and I'm sure your uncle is as well, ma Cherie. You're going to be fine."

"How do you 'ave the power to keep tabs on him, Monsieur? You're just a seventh year."

He gave her an almost kind smirk. "Have a little faith in me, Lady Montague; you'll find I'm worth far more than you think."

"I'd ask for a hug, but I think Abraxas may be more apt in _z_at department."

"Yes, he's quite good as rescuing lovely damsels," he told her, taking Mashki from her as though he was his.

"Get ready for the day, Miss Granger. It's nearly time for breakfast, and I fancy a walk."

"By all means, go, Monsieur," she told him, not feeling very inclined to get ready yet. As soon as he was out of her room, she'd go back to sleep, breakfast be damned.

"With you, dear. I want us to walk together. It'll be our thing," he smirked arrogantly. Their _thing?_ What on earth was going on today? Still, she got ready and went out with him anyway. It would pay off in the end.

.

By the time they finished their walk and got to breakfast, Tom wasn't very happy with the witch. They sat down at Slytherin table and found a cupcake and a few gifts on and around the plate at her usual place. She stared blankly at it before sitting down, barely registering Riddle stealing a bit of the strawberry frosting before filling his plate with his breakfast favorites.

"Anything you'd like to share, Miss Granger?" He asked, pouring them both juice.

Looking up at the Head table, she spotted Dumbledore watching her with a smile, as though their relationship wasn't on pins and needles. Still, she returned it beautifully, making a mental note to visit him. "Today est mon anniversaire," the witch whispered. How she'd forgotten was beyond her. Tom turned in is seat to look at her, setting his fork in his plate. Ignoring him, Hermione quickly pushed the wrapped packages into her schoolbag, which she'd casted a bag extension charm on. It would just be another thing he was upset about, and she wasn't interested in arguing with him again.

"Happy Birthday," he told her, which caused her to finally look at him. The calm tone in which he'd said it, as though he'd meant the well wishes, surprised her. She wouldn't tell him why Abraxas had given her a bracelet, and now he'd likely assume it was because of what today was. That was quite fine for her.

With a disturbingly playful smirk, he slid his finger into the icing again and plopped what he'd collected onto her nose.

"Isn't this sweet."

Hermione looked away from the wizard to find Eileen Prince sitting down in her usual seat. They hadn't become friends, but the girls had an unspoken bond that swelled Hermione's heart. The other witch's cynical demeanor and dark hair (even if it was luscious and styled with great care very day) reminded her so much of Snape that she'd become a neutralizing person in her life.

Rubbing at her nose to get the pink substance off, she cast an upset look at Tom. Before she could say anything, he spoke up: "Today is my little witch's birthday," he told her, "and there is nothing wrong with being soft with your better half, Miss Prince." Then, Hermione did the most undignified thing ever. She began to choke on air.

The noise attracted the attention of the other Houses, and she was unsure if the world was closing in or expanding around her. Tom hadn't acknowledged their 'relationship' to anyone, not even her, considering it was all very nonexistent. They were just friends, if you could call their unhealthy connection that, but his words made it sound like so much more. _His better half?_ The witch clutched at her chest, attempting to take some deep breaths. She knew for a fact that he hadn't linked himself to anyone during his entire time at Hogwarts. He might as well have pulled out a ring right there. Desperately, she needed Draco and Snape; she needed to strap them to the chairs they'd sat in and told her everything would be okay, and demand to know everything. Everything was all so unfair and catastrophic already that she was horrified to make another move. Too many people had been around to hear him make such a declaration.

Eileen's shock went unnoticed as she watched the Dark wizard rub his witch's back soothingly, offering her some water. The rest of her table listened curiously.

"Would you like to get some fresh air, ma Cherie?" He asked once she'd calmed.

Hermione shook her head, "No. Some tea. I would like some tea." She swallowed a few times, upset at herself for making such a scene at breakfast. He made her a cup himself before rubbing at her back some more. Her breathing slowed as she sipped the warm drink, and he pulled away to go about eating his breakfast and conversing with his followers. He felt her shuddering, all nerves and coming darkness on her own. It felt like a balm for his broken soul.

The very small smile on Tom's lips went unnoticed as he rested his leg against hers under the table.

* * *

**Author's Note: I really want to apologize for having you all wait so long for this update. **I've had a super busy few days and haven't ben able to get around to posting until today. From now on, I promise updates on Tuesday's and will do my best for twice a week.

Also, I'd like to apologize for something else I screwed up. Originally, the chapter _Submission _had more information on his followers in it. However, I had some trouble with Word and the version posted only introduced Avery (Abbott, Greengrass, and Burke were also supposed to be introduced). I've only just realized this, so I'm sorry if anything I posted after confused anyone.

As always, thank you so much for the reviews/follows/favorites! It means so much to see that people are enjoying this, as it really inspires me to write more frequently than I wold otherwise. I hope that everyone has enjoyed this update; seeing Tom and Hermione all fluffy makes me really happy...and eager to ruffle some feathers. ^-^

To answer a couple questions:  
-No, DarkPriestessOfHyrule, he doesn't have Nagini yet. The snake I mentioned is the Basilisk, which isn't exactly pet or familiar friendly ^-^  
-I actually don't _really_ have a favorite genre, AvalonTheLadyKiller. Dramione and Lumione veela fics make me happy, as well as stories where the male lead is dark and dangerous and disturbingly obsessed with Hermione. But, as long as I like the pairing, I'm going to read it. And if it has a happy ending, all the better.  
I like a good villain as well; when Tom is like the equivalent of the Joker my heart just bursts at the seams.

Anyway, have a good week everyone! (:  
(Also, anyone else listening to the 1D leak? Can't wait to actually buy the album ^-^)


	11. Realizations

**Disclaimer: **I am not JK Rowling and this lovely world belongs to her.

*This chapter is a bit long!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The witch stepped out of Slytherin House to find Burke tying his shoe. It was such an odd thing to catch him doing that she froze, slightly mesmerized by the sight of him crouched low to the ground, strawberry hair falling around his eyes. As he pushed up, it was clear that he hadn't heard her by the surprise that etched onto his face for the briefest of moments. Although she was still quite uncomfortable around him, she'd learned to read him a little better, gaining a better understanding of his facial ticks and speech patterns. She'd felt obsessive about it at first, wanting to learn everything she possibly could about the boy, but decided that it benefited her to be cautious around people she knew little of in the future.

Tom had personally seen to beating him like a Muggle upon learning of his crude words and accusations toward her, and it was obvious that Perseus being punished was far from ordinary. Since then, no Knight had even seemed to think wrongly in her direction (not that they had before), furthering her status before them, but Burke's dislike only seemed to increase and the ice the pair was on only seemed to be thinning. Now, the only thing that bothered her greatly was the dark looks he cast her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, and Hermione was sure it was only a matter time before he decided to push his limits again. For now, he kept himself carefully away from her unless their nearness was required, or in moments such as these, as it's hard to avoid people when you run in the same circle and live in the same space.

"Lady Granger," he smiled tersely. "Sneaking out, are you? Going to meet a secret boyfriend?"

She pursed her lips and blinked slowly, making her being unamused clear. "Non, Monsieur. I 'oping to find someplace quiet to plot demises."

He eyed her carefully, as though weighing the value of her words, eyes darkening in consideration.

"Oh, Monsieur. Lighten up," she laughed nervously. "I was going to visit Oncle Dumbledore."

He looked as though he wanted to tell her it seemed like the same something. "Sweet," he spoke instead. "I'll walk you there, the castle is no place for a Lady to be on her own so late in the evening."

She looked at him curiously, glancing around for anyone he may have been with. The last thing she felt like doing was keeping up appearances right now. She wanted to make it to her meeting and get it over with, because meetings with Dumbledore had turned so greatly into a chore that she actually contemplated blowing him off completely. Anything that hindered her getting it down quickly was incredibly upsetting. However, her curiosity toward what he was up to stopped her from declining the offer. Tom wouldn't turn down a chance to learn about is enemies, and she wouldn't either.

"Only if I may ask you'd offer to walk up Gryffindor?"

"A Lady should not walk about alone so late in the evening," he told her measuredly before pausing. She looked at him skeptically and he smirked her. "Gryffindor witches have needs too, dear."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at his comfort in calling her something other than her name, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he offered her his arm, the humored look in his eyes never disappearing. She accepted Burke's arm with a bit of hesitancy. "I see. Are we lowering our standards already?"

He shrugged, "There are many a lovely witch in the tower, Lady Granger, though not quite such as yourself."

The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck rose to attention as they climbed the staircase. Fortunately, she'd yet to tuck her wand up her sleeve, and twirled it casually at her side, ready to use it at any moment. He was acting too strangely for her. "And who, pray tell, are tonight's victims?"

The strawberry blonde wizard settled his hand over hers on his arm, allowing a satisfied smirk to fall over his features as Hermione eyed him carefully. He was up to something, and incredibly chatty, which frustrated the witch terribly. Playing nice wasn't on her to do list tonight, but Hermione found herself drawing into the roll she playing.

"I can assure you that those fortunate enough to experience myself enjoy much pleasure."

Hermione coughed a bit, having not been prepared for just how vulgar his words would be. Sure, she'd heard fresher statements, but she expected them in the 90s. Now, she was just incredibly confused and very much bothered. Alphard had been right to say nothing suitable ever came from his mouth.

Curiously, she wondered if he was the dirty old man that ran the Borgin and Burke's during her time, but decided that it didn't really even matter. She'd never encountered him truly in her proper time, and didn't plan on doing shopping within the store when she returned.

"Well, good on you, Monsieur," she replied lamely, tensing as he laced their fingers together in the crook of his arm. _What the hell? _As gently as she could, she pulled out of his grip, and switched the side her bag was on so that he couldn't reattach himself to her. There was nothing normal about his behavior, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

"Really, whenever you're interested-"

"That i_z_ enough, Monsieur. I understand."

He hummed thoughtfully as they started up the final staircase. "I am no less suspicious of you."

_Great, _she thought, _this again_, and resisted laughing. "When I was a child, I went on a trip via Muggle train with _ma famille. _They had a very interesting program on _z_e radio, about love and obsession. Would you like me to tell you about it, Monsieur Burke?"

He frowned disgustedly, "I can't imagine how you would have learned anything from Muggles."

"_Z_ey are quite interesting persons, you know? All they've accomplished without _magie_, it's all very impressive."

"Sure. Though, I must admit that I'm more curious about your family."

Hermione sighed. "I don't speak of the dead, Monsieur. It i_z _not polite to call them back to _z_e earth."

He looked confusedly at her, obviously thrown off by her response, and Hermione found herself thankful for all of the anthropology books that lined the walls of her childhood home. Being able to call on such information really helped her survive in this time, even if the beliefs weren't relative to European wizards. Smiling sweetly, she looked to find him shaking his head of whatever he'd been thinking, hands clasped behind his back in the way Tom did while he was ranting. It was an action she'd seen many of the Knights complete when they weren't in the presence of their Lord, as though they were seeking comfort and guidance through things he did frequently.

She shivered at the thought.

"No matter," he finally said, "I have no such belief, so please forgive my lack of care for their discussion." Her look of distaste went unrecognized as he pulled together his thoughts. "It's curious, really, Lady Granger, that you appear so suddenly, with such a convenient story. Such a lovely witch, with Dumbledore as your Uncle; of course no one would question a thing. But, you didn't budget for myself. I see right through you, and I want you to know that. I will discover your secret, and reveal it. Believe you me, Lady Granger."

The witch didn't linger on how he may have tied all the strings together before Tom, and instead focused on reacting. There would be time later to analyze the situation. "It i_z _really amazing how dimwitted you could be, Monsieur. Per'aps you are unaware, but there is a war going on, on _z_e continent, in France! My own country was not safe, and I did what I had to do to get out. You will not make me feel bad for befriending someone I can relate to."

The pair stopped before the small alcove before Dumbledore's chambers, Hermione standing with her back to the entrance to finish their conversation before entering. He rolled his eyes, and acknowledged nothing of what she'd said. "You prance around with that little emblem and all your grace, sitting in on meetings before running off to your Uncle to out us. I know, Lady, as I am not blind to your charms."

Hermione frowned. "Do you hear what I say? Monsieur Riddle est mon amie. He means too much to me to do what you're accusing me of." She stamped her foot, and wanted to shake herself after doing it. The sinking feeling that she was saying too much was slipping into her mind.

He shook his head in disbelief, eyes narrowing and lips pursing. "You're nothing but smoke and mirrors, and I will gladly show our Lord the light.

"You may have some of his most trusted Knights eating out of your hands, but I am not one of them, Lady Granger."

"_Z_en I am happy your thoughts lie only with the _your_ Lord," Hermione told him evenly, watching the wizard carefully to make him see that he most definitely not focused on his Lord. "I'll be sure to mention your dedication."

He scowled. "Let's keep this between us, Granger. You really don't need your boyfriend fighting all your battles, do you?"

Hermione gave a smirk worthy of the man of the hour and turned to start up the few steps to Dumbledore's door. Her time with Burke had gone from uncomfortable to quite informative, and for as unsettled as she was about his keeping tabs on her, she was glad to know what he was up to. He was a talker, much like the Dark Lord of the future, and Hermione found herself thankful.

"Don't put all of your eggs in one basket, Monsieur," she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.

Dumbledore was waiting for her at the top, frowning curiously. "What was that, dear?"

"Nothing," she replied while slipping into the room.

"If he's discovered you, Hermione, we can't sit idle," he warned after shutting the door.

"Don't worry, Professor. I believe we're dealing with Burke's fragile ego more so than me being discovered too greatly. If push comes to shove, we'll forge some documents." She looked around to find a tea service set up on his desk before turning to smile at the older wizard. "Let's get to it, then."

.

"Two months," Dumbledore sat on the edge of his desk, hands laced in his lap as he studied the witch before him. They'd discussed her progress and success with her role, and completed two extra services of tea. The witch had hoped there would be little more to discuss, but it was clear that he wasn't near to being done.

However, she wasn't disappointed. She was grateful that she'd dragged herself from the dungeons to meet with him; somehow, the air closer to Gryffindor Tower was cleaner, and it helped to clear her mind of the fog she'd filled it with by falling into a comfortable routine with her Slytherin family. Being recognized by the professor, who obviously saw how deep she'd been drawn into Riddle, forced her to remember who she was.

Hermione gave a small, nervous smile and watched him through her lashes. "Two months," she repeated, and twirled the snake ring Orion had talked her into wearing again. Having realized it wasn't the magic within it that caused her to feel the sinking, suffocating feeling, she was more open to sensations it caused. Now, it was comforting and reassuring –especially in the presence of the wizard that charmed it. "Feels much longer," she admitted. The actual amount of time she was spending in the forties had never been discussed, and it wasn't something she actively thought about. Despite everything, she was just completing her seventh year.

He looked at her quizzically, "Usually enjoyment causes time to pass more quickly."

She frowned, "Enjoyment is subjective." As Dumbledore considered her statement, she found herself doing the same.

It was a strange realization, but Hermione Granger felt so far away from the girl she was now that it was weird to even consider them together. Feelings and beliefs that plagued the witch of the 90s meant nearly nothing to her now. She felt numb to what it meant, but understood that the closer she got to Tom, the farther away she'd feel from who she truly was. Whoever that was, these days. Every day furthered her connection to Mimi Granger, nee Montague. Nearly every moment of her time was spent with Tom and his Knights or with the Lady Slytherin, forcing her to solidify herself al little more.

From sitting before his Knights every week to baring witness to their solitary punishments, she felt her resolve weakening and slipping away. Wednesday evenings had turned into Ladies Night in Slytherin House, and Hermione played her part as she hosted the cheerleaders of the Dark wizard's cause. As much as she didn't enjoy gossiping and carrying on like a brainless house-witch, she quite liked what Tom was doing when he decided she should have them in the sitting room weekly. He'd even gone so far as to think up a room specifically for them (which Hermione had felt comfortable enough to tease him about, though it earned a few hours of silent treatment).

For as power-hungry and maddened he became in her time, he was proving himself to be incredibly deserving of the title that declared him one of the greatest, most intelligent wizards of his time. Every moment she spent in his presence furthered this belief, from learning his more radical ideas behind magical theories to seeing how efficiently he worked on his personal and academic tasks. Even the way he carried himself and their 'relationship' privately and publicly was near genius.

What was surprising was that he obviously didn't hate Muggleborns at this point in his life; he simply didn't understand why they didn't make the effort to thrive in the world they were entering, rather then just exist in it. She understood this, and wondered when his views had become too twisted and dark. It was frightening to see how similar they were, and how easy it was to agree with and like him.

She felt as though she were standing near the edge of a building, staring down at the life she were creating for herself here, where she understood and related to the Dark Lord, rather than remembering all the shit he was causing in her proper time. It was still clear in her mind that Voldemort was a bad guy who deserved something even worse then a painful death, but he wasn't that man yet. Right now, he was Tom Riddle, maybe a budding politician or educator, but definitely not a psychopath, and it was lovely to watch and grow with him. It was dangerous and upsetting, but she'd done exactly what she'd hoped she wouldn't, and found it too difficult to return to the task-oriented girl she was upon arrival. Now, she wasn't worried about pulling Abraxas in too deeply to Mimi Montague's charms, or concerned about how bad her future could be if she got too close the future Dark Lord. Right now, she was learning more than she ever thought she would, and found that Mimi quite enjoyed the popularity that came with being a Slytherin attached to the Head Boy. The old Hermione would have scoffed at the notion.

For these reasons, the moment of clarity she got with her earlier statement frightened her. Before Dumbledore, everything made sense: her task was clear and achievable, and she was able to differentiate between the person she was and had to be. With Tom, the lines blurred and everything became a quite confusion that spurred her to thrive in her environment. Not sure whether it was a good thing, she voiced her worries to the professor, who nodded his understanding.

"We should consider this a defense mechanism. Your mind and heart are protecting themselves, and allowing you to complete your task as thoroughly as possible. Allow me to worry about to results of these actions for you," he got up and walked around his desk. "I still want you focused on learning about and influencing Tom completely."

"Yes, sir," she told him, and let that line of conversation die out. "Tom's not all that bad."

Dumbledore looked blankly at her, "He's killed at least two people, Hermione."

She blushed, "Yes, well. _That _obviously leaves plenty to be desired of him, but beyond that. He had great potential. It's sad to know it goes to waste. It makes me wonder what it would have taken for him to be normal."

"I believe it beyond our capabilities."

She tilted her head at the thought. "So, you believe some people are inherently evil?"

"I believe some to be more susceptible to it. He wasn't born shouting Unforgivables, my dear, but he was born mad, and with quite a bit of magic. Being in a Muggle orphanage for the first part of his life didn't help to nurture anything that would have molded his life into righteousness. They avoided and belittled what they didn't understand, which only fed his hate. That sort of passion towards something is no good when the darkness is lurking.

"That being said, if his mother had lived, well she wasn't exactly sane, Hermione. He may have been less dangerous than he will become, but the potential to get taken by the darkness would still be there. Maybe closer even, if he grew up in the Gaunt House. It's unfortunate to lose a great wizard to the Dark Arts; it hurts those close to them more truly and painfully than anyone else could imagine. I know. That's why I'm here for you."

Hermione swallowed down the hollowness in her throat after a few tries. The way he spoke about the Dark Arts as though it was a virus one could catch was frightening. More bothersome was that she hadn't considered Dumbledore's support of Grindelwald similar to her current relationship. She and Tom didn't grow up together; they weren't planning the end of a race in the sitting room; she had nothing to do with his goals and aspirations, not really. But, the older wizard found a connection in them that she would never be able to forget. She had grown to care for the budding Dark Lord, quite a bit, even. It wasn't clear what exactly the emotions growing in her meant, but it caused her to invest part of herself in him. For as hard as he'd have it when she finally left, she'd return to her proper time feeling as though she'd left something behind.

It was more than she'd considered before, and it was the last thing she wanted on her mind. Lacing her hands in her lap, she sealed that part of herself off. "Have you made any progress on what it's going to take to send me home?"

"No," he said quickly, and Hermione straightened in her seat. At her curious stare, he sighed. "Has Tom mentioned anything to you about Grindelwald?"

She nodded, "He's in Ireland."

The professor stroked his beard. "Yes," he spoke measuredly. "I've been tracking him relatively closely. I believe he's looking for you."

Unsure that she'd heard him correctly, the witch blinked a few times. "Pardon?"

"One of the Montague's was actually my godchild, Hermione, the eldest of the twins. It was decided before news got out about what sort of power lied within the family…when Gellert and I were attempting to get back on speaking terms. I mentioned it in passing, as it was good news for myself. You know, tea talk. I never planned on having children, you see, so it was quite the honor to have a godchild. The point is, my dear-"

"He knows," Hermione whispered with wide eyes. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. _This _wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to need- the witch took a sharp breath in.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "You are protected here, Hermione. Not only by myself, but your wizards in Slytherin as well. You've done well with your power and beauty. Too many are interested in your hand to allow any danger to come to you."

She frowned disgustedly, and he did too. "I suppose it was too soon after informing you of the danger you were into mention that you've had many a proposal."

"Maybe a little."

"Please excuse an old wizard's thoughtless information then, my dear. Just know that you are well protected within the grounds of Hogwarts. Gellert didn't attend this school, and has never visited. He has no way of accessing it."

Hermione nodded, "Perhaps we could continue this conversation at a later date?"

"We could meet every Tuesday afternoon, maybe? You could leave your art course a little early and we could have tea before dinner."

His excitement at the thought caused her to nod in agreement. It'd be helpful for her to have time to clear her mind once a week. "I'll be here."

He clapped his hands and stood. "Very well, Hermione. I've been hoping for this since we dined together before term." As he moved before her, he smiled sadly down at the witch, "I want to apologize for my actions as of late. I didn't mean for it to seem as though I was shunning you. I'm nervous for you, and I'd hate to not be a rock in your presence."

She gave him a soft smile, and stood up as well. "I was afraid you thought I was a lost cause already."

"Never, my dear. Know that you will always have my trust, love, and support. Even when we have to do what is necessary." He watched her imploringly and she nodded understandingly. "I suppose you should be on your way back now, before your boyfriend sends out his hounds." Dumbledore patted his pockets in search of something.

"Knights," she told him as they walked to the door. "He calls them his Knights."

"Befitting," Dumbledore mumbled. "Do they harass you often?"

"No. Most adore me."

He looked proud, which caused her to blush. "Well, why wouldn't they?"

"I could give you a few reasons," she told him sadly, reality sinking back in.

He sighed, "Don't worry too greatly over Grindelwald, dear. Everything will work itself out."

Hermione took the handful of offered lemon drops and left.

.

.

.

Tom didn't look up as the witch entered her room, opting to keep his eyes on the text he was reading. Since noticing the increased amount of books on her shelves about Black Magic, he'd been reading through them as quickly as she, hoping to learn something more. However, the tomes were nearly thousands of pages of the same information, with little add-ons here and there made by those who'd practiced the Art. However, nothing had ever been published publically by practitioners, which left the wizard incredibly upset and half ready to simply force his witch to attempt it. She was lucky the risks greatly outweighed his curiosity -for now.

"You've been to see your Uncle," he stated as she leaned on the desk, the citrus scent of candy filling his nose. She was quiet for long enough to get his interest, but he get kept his eyes glued to the text, scanning the words for something new, knowing she'd tell him sooner of later. It was likely some threat to stop seeing him, which he cared very little about. Granger was too closely tied to him to leave now, he'd seen to it.

"And I ran into Burke; he walked me _z_ere."

"Should I have another chat with him?"

"Oh, I don't know, Monsieur," she replied distantly, lacing her arms over her chest. "'e is a bit fresh. It is not appropriate, you know?" She continued thoughtlessly, which caught his attention. Obviously, she was working her way up to something, and it was hard for him to gage what. "Perhaps around those he i_z_ sleeping with, but not me."

"I'll mention it to him, Miss Granger." He told her measuredly, not bothering to look up at her. He was no longer comprehending what he was reading, though; instead, he found himself trying to work out what was bothering her. "He doesn't like me."

It was a loaded statement, with backstory brimming to the top. He waited patiently, but it never came. "He knows better than to disrespect you."

"At least he has _z_e utmost respect for you, my Lord."

He looked up at her words, but not at the witch. Instead he stared at the wall, analyzing the smile that was heard in her voice and considering how it made him feel. It was so different from the tone of everything else she'd said since entering the room, so far away from anything he'd expected, that he fought to resist smirking, as well as asking her to say it again.

Inhaling deeply, he refocused on his book, hyperaware of the girl beside him. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and fiddled with the tip, nerves seeming to take back over. Silence fell between them and the wizard decided not to linger on her. There were more important things to consider, like where they'd have to look to find more informative books on Black Magic. As of right now, there was nothing of importance in the Black or Malfoy libraries, and although Burke and Greengrass were also searching theirs, he was sure that they'd come up short.

"Grindelwald i_z_ looking for me."

He tilted his head, "We know it's a possibility, Miss Granger. One you shouldn't worry yourself about."

"Please look at me, Monsieur."

The tone of her voice, the fear in it, was another drastic change he hadn't expected, and it forced his eyes upon her. He stood up quickly, moving in front of her before allowing his hand to cradle her jaw, fingers lacing through the loosely braided hair at her nape. "What is it? Do you need more promises, my dear?"

She tilted her head to peer into his eyes. "He knows, Tom. Grindelwald knows _z_at a Montague is Dumbledore's godchild. He's in Ireland for me."

His name felt like spikes against his skin, and he reveled in the sound he so seldom got hear from her. She trembled badly under his hand, causing him to draw circles on her jaw with his thumb. Slowly, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, her head coming to rest on his chest. He didn't tense at the action, but her seeking comfort from him was new, and he wasn't sure about how he should treat it. Sympathy wasn't something he understood, nor strived to. But, sometimes allowances needed to be made.

He didn't change the way he held her to increase her comfort. But, he didn't push her away either.

Her fear felt sweet, and it wasn't something he wanted to end. However, fear in another Dark wizard wasn't something he wanted her to have. He frowned slightly, realizing that he didn't want her fearful of him either. _Well_, he thought to himself, but there was nothing further to acknowledge. Her shaking increased and his frown deepened as he pulled away to study the witch. Thankfully, she wasn't crying, just shaken.

"All those _Prophet _articles and photos. Slughorn and 'is big mouth. I would have come here for nothing. To die! I don't want to die, Monsieur Riddle. Not 'ere, not now." She looked close to hysterics by the end.

Without considering it further, he pushed her back against his chest, and let his fingers to slide further into her hair as his free hand moved to rest on her waist. "Put your trust in me, Mimi," he told her quietly, thumb drawing circles behind her ear. "Nothing will happen to you. I won't allow it."

With her head buried in his chest, she didn't notice Burke standing in doorway, but Tom did. He inclined his head in recognition of his follower, curious as to how he'd gotten through the wards that should have closed behind Granger. Fortunately, he hadn't been too intimate with her, but they'd mentioned her status as a Montague clearly enough that he would have been able to hear it, if he'd been there long enough.

Without any further adieu, the Knight nodded at his Lord and disappeared. The Burke's had always been a shady, slimy lot, but Tom began to understand his witch's feelings of distrust toward the other wizard. His invasion of their privacy wasn't proper and couldn't be allowed. Pursing his lips, he decided that his previous warning really hadn't done a thing to clarify that anything to do with Granger was none of their concern. The more prestigious of his Knights seemed eager to question her, be it friendly and callous. She'd have no reason to rely on him, or believe in his power, if those he was supposed to trust didn't even listen to him.

Ill behavior and casual disregard for rules wouldn't be allowed. Not even from his preferred followers. He'd have to call a small meeting after she went down for sleep.

.

"Shut your mouth, Burke," Abraxas spoke from his seat at the other end of the table, his eyes turning to slits as eyed his fellow Knight.

Opposite him, Tom sighed inwardly, relaxing into his seat and pressing his index finger into his temple as his thumb rested on his jaw. After treating his follows like children, allowing them the speak in turn about their worries about and feelings towards Mimi Granger, he'd explained to his supposed best Knights –for a second time- that she wasn't, and would never be, one of them. She was simply a powerful witch that he chose to align himself with, which is why he'd expected nothing but respect given to her.

Out of the ten boys seated, the majority seemed to be at ease with, or even more so now, the situation, but Burke's continued worry forced them to remain early into the morning. The Lord was aware that some of his lesser Knights also had mild reservations, but he believed them mostly out of fear of being under her wand, like Avery had been all those weeks ago. It may have been Perseus' problem as well, but it was such a petty thing to be worried about that Tom truly hoped there was more to it. Besides, he wasn't interested in having her teach any of his men any more lessons, as it wasn't an incredibly Lady-like thing to do, and he much preferred her to watch instead.

Realizing the pair was in the middle of a heated argument, Tom looked around to see that everyone was relatively zoned out. "Burke," he spoke evenly, gathering everyone's attention quickly. "What are your true worries?"

The young wizard turned his eyes to him angrily, "That you are blinded by the charms of a _girl, _my Lord. You haven't been yourself since the start of term."

"I've never felt more like the wizard I plan to be in my life, Knight," he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "However, I must be doing something incorrectly if you believe me to be so weak minded that I would allow a little slip of a girl to blind me." Tom spoke as though he was joking, but with his eyes locked with his follower's, it was clear he was beyond upset. "Please, how might I return to the person I was last year? Advise me."

"My Lord," Burke looked down at the table, his face flushing, but the man at the head of the table knew better than to believe his false embarrassment.

"Oh, no, Perseus. Please don't hold back. Let myself and your brethren become aware for your worries. Let us try to alleviate them."

He either didn't catch the sarcasm, or didn't care, which would have amused Tom if he weren't so livid. Every moment drew him closer to understanding why Granger disliked him so greatly. He didn't want to raise his wand to someone who'd been the very first to recognize his power, but great wizards did a lot of things they didn't necessarily want to do.

"I am only worried of her involvement. She showed up so conveniently, placed under your hall, no past to speak of. On top of it, related to a Dumbledore. We get here, and she's already got you wrapped around your finger. She's brainwashed Malfoy into believing they're _related_. What am I supposed to think? Only that the person who is supposed to be an example to not only his Knights and Slytherin House, but the school as well, isn't thinking at all. At least not with his brain."

"Pray tell, what am I thinking with?"

"Your cock! Like a filthy Mudblood!" Perseus shot up from the table, fist slamming against the wood as he stared at his Lord. It was only then that he seemed realize just how much he'd said, and that Tom wasn't happy at all. The rest of table sat in shocked silence, Abraxas brewing in his seat.

Without even lifting his wand, the Dark wizard had his follower writhing on the ground; his cries hushed and jaw clamped. He stood slowly, looking over the rest of the young men without lifting the spell. "I will always allow you all to speak your minds, as your thoughts are quite dear to me. I care quite a bit how and what you are feeling. However, disrespect will not be tolerated. Lack of attention to orders will not be tolerated. And acting as though you are anything less than a fine gentleman of Slytherin House will leave you privy to a fate similar to Burke's.

"You will heed my words and will. You will not disobey me. And you damn sure will not treat Lady Granger with anything less than the same respect you'd show me. She is purer and more valuable than anyone in this school, and will be honored with great care." He paused to let the information sink in, "Do I make myself clear?"

A chorus of 'yes, my Lord' rang sweetly in his ears.

"I couldn't hear you, Burke."

"Yes, my Lord," he rasped out from under the spell. Tom smirked at the pain he was in, a feeling a satisfaction slipping into this bones. "I trust you will make my desires clear to anyone that isn't present."

Again, they agreed, and it was like a balm. Idly, he felt the wards around his hall change, and assumed it was Mashki, the cat. As he settled back into his seat, he released the spell temporarily. "And if you believe me weak because of who I choose to align myself with, or because I choose to align myself with anyone at all, please recall the first meeting of this term. I believe Lady Granger showed everyone that she was quite capable of holding her own with any of you. If you have any doubts, ask Avery how long he was…influenced by her lesson." Tom smirked, "If they continue after that, I can help to ease you of your uncertainty."

He observed them briefly, giving Burke a few more shocks of his fever spell. "I enjoy her company," he admitted by way of being relatable. "But I would be just as strong as I am now if she'd never made it to Scotland. I am still your Lord, here to guide you to greatness. That will never change, I assure you. You're dismissed."

They filed out quickly, Avery being the one to help Perseus from the room, likely going straight to their dorm rooms to collapse into sleep. He relaxed into his seat, allowing Abraxas to set a glass of Fire Whiskey down before him as the table shrunk to accommodate he and the Black's easily. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the Malfoy sighed loudly.

"Fucking Burke. What does he think he's doing?"

"His worries are valid, Abe. Miss Granger's appearance was sudden and unexpected. Perhaps I thought to highly of my Knights to open their arms to her as you did," Tom closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair.

Cygnus laughed coldly, "Burke and his lackeys are the only few who object her, my Lord. They've never been the brightest of the lot." Silence fell around them as they drank.

"You like her," Orion finally accused, his eyes wide as he watched his Lord. Cygnus frowned confusedly at his cousin, as though he didn't understand the point of the statement, before looking to his Lord.

"Don't you?" Abraxas asked with a look of confused disgust on his face. Tom was proud at his Knights for their honesty, and eyed Malfoy and the younger Black with a smirk before looking curiously at the elder one.

"Of course I do; she's a lovely witch. I am only shocked at your continued interest, my Lord." Orion told him, bowing his head slightly to show his respects.

Tom found himself preening at the action, and nodded to the boy as he lifted his head back up. "Would you let go of something so precious?"

"Never," he replied quickly, and the Dark wizard made a gesture that ended the conversation.

"Go to bed, gentlemen, and continue to be examples of how one should carry themselves. It seems a few of your brethren need continued help."

They listened, Abraxas being the only one to linger briefly. Tom stood and walked with him to the door, allowing the room to morph into its standard sitting room. "May I ask what occurred?"

"She doesn't feel comfortable around Perseus, of course. His disrespect toward her is inexcusable, really. But how can I favor her over my Knights?"

"You just did, my Lord."

The words caused everything within his to come to a standstill, an eerie silence stretching him from head to toe. The blonde was right, and it was difficult to digest. When had she come to actually mean something to him? He blinked slowly to clear his mind, eyes reconnecting with his Knight's.

"There is nothing wrong with it, Tom," Abraxas whispered familiarly. "I told you, she's worth it. Mimi is worth everything."

He inclined his head. "I wouldn't say that."

"Sure. Goodnight, my Lord," he slipped from the room without further thought, and the curly haired wizard stepped into the hall as well, climbing the couple steps to find both his witch and cat in the hall.

He frowned, "Why are you awake?"

"I realized something," Granger whispered, cuddling Mashki closer to her chest for comfort that the animal gave readily.

"I did, too."

She leaned against the wall, peering curiously at him. _You just did, my Lord. You just did. Youjustdid._

"Go to bed, Miss Granger."

"Mimi," she moved to straighten herself out. "Please just call me Mimi, Monsieur."

Tom gave sharp nod, pushing the door to his room open. "I'll consider it."

"Would you consider sitting with me for a little while?"

He simply stared at her, allowing a longer silence than comfortable before finally pulling his door closed and moving down the hall. As she lay down, he sat himself on the opposite side of the bed, kicking his shoes off before folding his long legs carefully. Despite having defended her before his Knights, an upsetting worry crept into his mind. He'd have to search her rooms more thoroughly, question her more carefully. He didn't doubt her, per se; he just didn't have any room to leave anything to chance, in case she was the one in the wrong.

Her fingers brushed his knee in thanks as the cat curled into his warmth. By daylight, he'd know exactly where he stood with the witch. For now, he'd sit quietly until she fell back asleep; perhaps consider what the truth about the situation could be.

Instead, he felt her touch against his clothed skin for hours.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The last thing I expected when I started this chapter was for it to end the way it did, but what can you do? I'm happy to see his struggle (hopefully all can enjoy more of an injection of Tom's thoughts; his chapter received such positivity thatI figured I'd go for it). Anyhow, we're finally over 100pages worth of this story, which is crazy to me. So much and so little have happened at the same time.  
I hope everyone enjoyed this update. As always, thank you to all of my lovely reviewers/favoriters/followers. It means so much to see all of you.

To Atleantean Diva (and anyone else how may have felt the same), I'm sorry it got confusing for you! I've gone back and attempted to clear things up, but I'm not sure it helped any. From how on, I'll try to make any transitions very clear.  
Also, hopefully I cleared up why Dumbledore as acting so strangely. He's going to be in-and-out through the whole story, so I wouldn't be _too _worried about him pulling away.

Of course, thank you for correcting any mistakes in my spelling/grammar. I don't have a beta, so I can't always catch every single mistake I make.

Again, a big thanks to everyone who reviews. It makes me _so_ happy to read about what you all are enjoying (or not enjoying!) ^-^

Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American friends (: This year I'm thankful for boy bands I can cry about (you'd never guess I'll be 20 soon)and the improvement of my Grampa's health.  
Also, I'm thankful to have such an awesome following for my first fanfic. It seriously means too much to even put into words that you all enjoy and make time to read this every week. Whenever I take a look at the country break down and see people from places I've never even heard of (!) I just smile so largely that my face hurts. Thanks a million, guys3

And cheers to everyone everywhere else ^-^ Hopefully everyone has a great week!


	12. Reactions

**Disclaimer: **I am not JK Rowling; this lovely world belongs to her and those affiliated.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Hermione rolled over the next morning to find Tom asleep next to her, legs stretched out atop the comforter and head lulled to the side. He was still sitting up, which would have been charming if it had been anyone else. Regardless, she was so incredibly shocked to find him there in such a vulnerable state that she lay perfectly still on her stomach, watching him carefully. No light had begun to brighten the Lake, so it wasn't near to being time for breakfast or classes.

She was unsure why she'd asked him to stay when it was Abraxas she'd wanted to have, but something about the darker wizard grabbed her more. He'd attempted to comfort her, albeit very distantly, and she was sure it was more than he'd ever done for anyone else. It made her feel like she was doing something right; like she was influencing him positively, even if only a little bit. If he felt close and comfortable enough to pull her into his chest, anything could happen. If she meant more to him, she could really destroy everything he was working so diligently for.

Strangely enough, she felt bad for her thoughts, which were constantly for and against him. In this time, he and Malfoy were really all she had, and she really felt deeply for them. But, at the end of the day, she was here for a reason. And trying to make them all decent people wasn't exactly it. It wasn't like she could really change anything, anyway, and she had bigger worries.

Grindelwald knowing about her was the last thing she'd expected in this time. It was such a simple lie, that she was his godchild, and it ruined her. Dumbledore should have known would, all things considered, and Hermione found it incredibly hard to understand why he would do things this way. Had he been able to defeat Grindelwald because he thought her to be a Montague? Or, did something go wrong? Was it possible that future Dumbledore's theory on time travel was incorrect? What if what she did now did impact the time line?

She realized that she needed someone else to know her secret more than anything now. It just wasn't safe, let alone practical. There were other ways to bounce questions off of the people around her, but with Tom's quiet genius and Burke's constant vigilance, she was bound to get caught.

The witch sighed lightly, subconsciously aware of the sleeping wizard as her thoughts carried her on to her next problem. Having more than one Dark Lord to prioritize would be stressful, and she wasn't particularly ready to deal with it, not with Burke on the prowl. It was a ridiculous feeling, but he still seemed to be the biggest threat of all. Tom she could manage, and there was the possibility that she'd never see Grindelwald a day in her life (if the theory that she was the one to lure him out so Dumbledore could duel with him was untrue), so Perseus very well could be her biggest threat.

She'd expected someone to string everything together, and to question her on what information they'd been given; but, the way he did it so callously, paired with the general distrust she felt toward him, truly unnerved her. Soon, he'd require more evidence, further proof that she is who she said she is, and there was little more she could do. Showing him the necklace would be too big of a risk, as she didn't trust him even as far as she could see him, and the muddling charm Tom had placed on it did nothing to deter him. If he were feeling this way so vocally, there were sure to be others who agreed, and possibly were also not satisfied with her having worn her emblem as brashly as the other's did.

It could have been because she wasn't as vocal about her pride in her name; but, they _had_ all wound up dead. Where was the pride in being slaughtered by a maniac? The thought sobered Hermione, forcing her to remember that said maniac was currently asleep in her bed. She blinked a few times to refocus, and realized that he was awake and watching her blankly.

The witch blushed, "Bonjour, Monsieur."

His lips quirked, but he managed to keep his face void of any thought or emotion. She knew that he wasn't used to waking up with someone, and didn't put any hope in the thought they he might at least feel a little softer toward her knowing that she hadn't attempted anything brash while he slept. She had no reason to in his eyes, though, so she doubted he would even consider it.

"Bonjour," he allowed, and Hermione was shocked at how natural he sounded. As though he'd grown up in France and spoken the language his entire life. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. "How are you feeling?"

"I am not worried about Grindelwald, if _z_at is what you're asking. Oncle Dumbledore was right, he can't find the castle."

"And suppose he had supporters here?"

"You believe someone in Slytherin supports Grindelwald?"

Tom shrugged, "Answer the question."

"I could only hope that I am able to defend myself if a student were able to let such a vile man into the castle," she told him honestly. Really, she hadn't even considered that. Who would do such a thing? Was it even possible? In all of her years attending Hogwarts, she'd grown to consider it home. The thought of compromising the safety of it was atrocious to her, but people did crazy things for the honor and respect from their idols. She'd have to draw Dumbledore's attention to the possibility. "Do you think that someone would do _z_at? That he 'as minions within the walls?"

"Miss Granger, unfortunately I'm not all knowing. They very well could be, but I don't believe there is."

"I think Burke would be one."

He studied her briefly before lifting a hand to brush fingers over her cheek, "I imagine you would." With a sigh, he stretched, pushing himself into a more comfortable position, and Hermione found herself admiring him.

"What else?" He asked, looking around curiously. Nothing had changed since the night before, but she supposed waking up within her walls was different enough for him to feel a bit off.

"You're quite handsome."

He looked at her intensely, obviously confused and possibly alarmed by her words. She gave him a very small smile and he said, "I didn't realize you thought of me that way." His words were so stiff and awkward that she resisted laughing.

"It isn't an easy thing to miss."

He let out a lot of air through his nose, as though he was trying not to laugh, but she swore she could see a little coloring on his cheeks. "You have rather advanced sentence structure for someone who didn't grow up speaking English," he told her, and she blinked, muscles tensing under her skin. For as casually as he'd said it, his remark was incredibly loaded. _Doubt._

"I never said I didn't speak English growing up."

"But you're French born," he countered. "Not to mention progeny to Italian and Greek parents."

She pushed herself up onto her elbows and laced her fingers over her pillow. "You know quite a bit about me."

"As I should, considering we're seeing each other."

"I know very little about you, Monsieur. And my complimenting you obviously made you uncomfortable. It's all kind of one sided, i_z_ it not?"

She could hear the purse in his lips as he said, "Don't change the subject."

"My parents attended 'ogwarts, therefore spoke the proper language. I know very little Greek and Italian, but I was born like a proper Montague: in Italy. France was an asylum, and a poor one at _z_at. I was around five at the time we moved, and picked up _z_e language easily."

"And your English?"

"My governess was English or American, je ne sais pas. And my parents, like I said."

"Convenient."

She looked at him darkly, "When you are worried for your famille, you will do what it necessary."

He seemed satisfied this time. "And if they were still alive, you wouldn't be here."

"Yes."

"I am sorry for your losses, Miss Granger. But, I happy you are here," he told her evenly. She almost believed him, she even wanted to, but she wasn't quite their in her descent yet. He could still do wrong, and be wrong, and she could still see through him, for the most part.

Still, she hesitated very nervously, allowing herself an almost timid look. "Me, too."

He smirked and let his fingers graze her cheekbone for a second time, thumb brushing against her lower lip as his eyes studied them. The conversation was far from over, but they sat in comfortable silence for a long time. Hermione had never felt so satisfied and discontent in her life.

.

About an hour later, when light finally managed to brighten the Black Lake, he seemed to remember that she was also lying in her bed, and touched her hair gingerly. The witch didn't move from where she'd curled herself around her pillow beside him, her eyes locked on the door in thought, but she did smile to herself at his action. It was surprisingly intimate, and he continued to comb his fingers through the fly-aways of her bed-head French braid.

"Tell me about the Montagues."

"My father liked to wear Muggle suits. Something about _z_e pockets, I don't know, Monsieur. And my mother loved to garden, which might be why I take Earth Magic, and wear all those pants you hate. In Italy, we had a field of sunflowers in the backyard. They were dangerous to play in, but my brothers chased me through _z_em for hours during their peak. I had three. Twins, older by about five years, and a little one who was about six when Grindelwald found us. I don't know what happened, but that's all I know. I don't even know if my ancestral home is still standing, because I'd been so young when we left it."

"And your foster family?"

"Squibs," she answered easily, unsure why it even left her mouth. "On my mother's side, who lived along _z_e border in France." That was closer the truth, because her mother's family did live there.

"And your fiancé?"

"Like you, _metis._"

His hand froze on her hair, fingertips touching to shell of her ear. Hermione waited patiently, wondering what he was thinking about. With the way her morning was going, there was no way she could guess what he'd ask about, she could hope that he would believe her. He was doubting her now, but she'd gotten this far with him on the back of Malfoy and the jewelry alone. And this was more information anyone would ever get on the last of the Montague line, because absolutely no one was alive to tell the story.

"You hated me because of my blood," he said evenly.

"I could never hate someone based on _z_eir blood. But, you disrespected –and continue to, by the way- the only family I 'ave left, not to mention that you'd broken into my room. I disliked you for _z_at. And you shoved me into a wall. That i_z_ hardly becoming, you know."

"Then why did you act like it was my blood?"

"C'est Slytherin, and I am not mad, Monsieur." The witch tilted her head, "Did it greatly offend you? Make you feel less then?" She sat up slowly, by his knees, and pulled her own to her chest in an attempt at modesty. He was watching her blankly, and she wanted so desperately to prove to him that blood didn't matter in the least bit, but it just wasn't the right time. It would make him even more suspicious of her. But…"Magic est might."

His blank stare turned into curiosity. "Magic is might," he repeated slowly, as though determining the meaning.

Looking away from him, she let her eyes fall on his hand, which was lying limply on the bed just a few inches before her. She lifted one of her own and hesitated only briefly before letting her fingers trace over his palm. "Don't let anyone make you feel like you are less then them." Slowly, she slid her fingers over his wrist, "Your parents don't matter. You're 'ere because it runs through your veins just as it does Malfoy or Black's. You have magic; you have power; you have might."

It wasn't beyond her that she was giving advice to the wizard that helped to form her decisions. Or that he probably didn't even need it. But she hoped she was appealing to him, maybe keeping his views of Muggleborns tame and understandable.

"Be careful, Miss Granger," he warned, and she wasn't really sure why. Perhaps it was because of what she was saying, within the walls of Slytherin, to the heir of the House. Or maybe it her forward intimacy. Honestly, she wasn't sure what she was more worried about.

"You don't agree?" She looked up at him to see that he had no intention of answering. "Squibs and Mudbloods are proof that purity doesn't matter. 'alf-bloods as well. Your father's blood didn't diminish your power."

"It may have."

She frowned. This wasn't going how she'd hoped, and it'd be a train wreck to continue. At least she'd planted the seed in his mind. Hermione decided to appeal to him. "Well, what you do i_z_ impressive, Monsieur. I am often quite fearful _z_at you will turn your wand on me, because I know there would be little I could do to stop you. If you'd been Pure," she swallowed and looked away from him.

Just as she began to feel as though she'd gotten the attention off of herself and what she'd said, the wizard gripped her wrist tightly, forcing her eyes upon him. He was upset, which was the last thing she'd expected, head tilting in consideration. The fear that clouded her eyes wasn't forced or faked.

"You're so lovely, Lady Montague. Such pretty words always seem to leave your mouth," he told her calmly.

"I could say the same thing to you, Monsieur." He tightened his hold but she continued, "Careful and measured, exactly what needs to be 'eard in the moment."

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"Only if you're accusing me."

He stared for a long time, and Hermione found herself growing worried until he finally said, "I suppose I can't fault you for self-preservation."

"I wouldn't be _z_e first Montague."

He let her go as though she burned him, eyes widening very briefly.

She rubbed her wrist carefully and attempted to blink away her tears. "I understand your caution, but you needn't have it with me. You could destroy me, Monsieur Riddle. Like I said, _z_ere is very little I could do to stop you." The witch got up and stretched a bit before walking across her room to the bathroom, "I'll see you at breakfast, I guess."

"I told you that you were safe here."

She paused in the doorway, turning her head but not looking at him, "And I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that."

"All I ask for is honesty, Mimi."

"Then I need to be able to trust you, Tom."

She shut the door before anymore could be said, sliding down the paneling silently as she rubbed at her eyes. Hermione couldn't help the smile on her lips.

.

.

The witch spent the rest of her day carefully beside her wizard. She kept her body language a little nervous in hopes that he would understand that Mimi Montague was only trying to keep herself safe, and having her safety threatened wasn't something she would take lightly. More so, Burke seemed to hate her just a little bit more than he had the night before. Although incredibly curious as to what had happened during their meeting, she hadn't had the opportunity to ask –not that she felt very comfortable asking about anything she wasn't invited to, as of yet; in her opinion, no matter how close she and Tom became, she wasn't sure she'd ever feel comfortable with any line of questioning that he didn't open up himself.

By the time dinner was over, she was so tired of faking everything that she wanted nothing more than to retreat to the library and get some studying in to quiet her mind. But, Tom turned to her just before he and the boys rose and gave her a handsome smirk, "Join us tonight, Miss Granger."

"Pardon?" She wanted to frown, but couldn't help but return the look he was giving her, as though he were flirting just because he could. Of course, she knew he was just claiming her a little further, and it was all a part of the game they had going on, but it made her feel nice. She was a teenaged girl, after all.

"Dueling club. Miss Prince attends, as well as few other Lady Slytherin. It'll be fun."

She glanced around to see those who were members –his Knights, of course- were watching her curiously. "Do you think-"

"Yes," he reached under the table for her hand and laced is fingers with hers briefly, drawing a blush to her checks before letting go and rising fluidly. He assisted her in getting up, and Hermione found herself unsure of what was going on. She felt as though she should be telling an adult where she was going, and checking in with Dumbledore to make sure she was allowed, but she let herself get swept off instead.

"Aren't people allowed to duel with you for simply being _z_ere, Monsieur?" She whispered, and he settled his hand over hers in the crook of his arm. It was comforting, for once.

"Well, yes, ma Cherie. But, I wouldn't worry about that."

"Sure, no one would dare cross you."

He chuckled. "I get a few every week, actually. Silly Gryffindor, usually. But, really, I doubt anyone would try to duel with you."

She stared at his as they strolled up the steps. "Of course not. Not your silly little Knights, who I'm sure are dying to sink _z_eir teeth into me, and definitely not those dingbat lions, who are just as blood thirsty, just without the 'onesty."

"The Knights would be foolish to lift a wand to you, and I'm sure you could defend yourself against 'dingbat lions,' my dear," he chuckled. "But I'll be there, just in case."

"I'm feeling very reassured," she replied smartly.

He pulled her to the side, motioning for his Knights to continue on as he positioned her before him. "What's wrong?"

"Pardon?" Honestly, she wasn't sure, but something told her that the Dueling Club was the last place she needed to be tonight. Not with so much going on.

"You've been hot and cold all day, and I've been patient with you, all things considered. But this needs to end right now," he told her with a frown. "Do you not feel safe?"

"No," she whispered harshly. "I don't. First, I tell you _z_at Grindelwald is after me, and you ask what I'd do _ee_f he had followers on the castle. Now, we're going to Dueling Club. Forgive me, but if I were a suck-up to any dark wizard, dueling club is where I'd be. Waiting."

He considered her for a moment before glancing briefly at some Ravenclaw wizards coming up the staircase, and Hermione flinched slightly as he raised a hand. Frowning deeper, he brushed hair away from her face before leaning in, toward her ear. "Don't push me, Lady Montague. You're going to attend tonight, and any other Monday I suggest you to. You're going to enjoy it, and not doubt my decisions. And if someone decides they are going to duel with you, you are going to preform as you did when I introduced you to the Knights, just as my lady should. Is that clear?"

She stepped away and eyed him icily. "Shall I shine your shoes and tidy your room while I'm at it, Monsieur?"

"Perhaps," he deadpanned

"Fuck you." Hermione had no idea where it came from, but there was no taking it back once the words left her mouth. She watched as his eyes widened, mouth opening slightly from the shock of it all. Sure that no one had ever had the nerve to say anything like it to him, she unwittingly decided to continue her line of thought. "I didn't come 'ere to play house with some random half-blood."

He took a deep breath, eyes flaming, before relaxing completely. She didn't want to admit it, but she was horrified of what may happen next. This was classic Voldemort in her proper time, which wasn't something she wanted to play with.

"So go enjoy your club time, Monsieur. I'll be in the commons."

"Be in your room in an hour," he spoke evenly, a very small smirk on his lips as he stepped around her. Before walking away, he filled the space behind her, hand grasping the back of her neck. "You'd do well to remember your place," his breath fell over her hair and ear as he whispered, his false intimacy causing a group of Ravenclaw witches to blush and smile at the pair as they passed. "You can't talk your way out of this one, little witch. I actually look forward to our later meeting."

She swallowed at the obvious pleasure in his voice, and waited for him to leave before starting down their House. _You're a genius, Hermione Jean, really._

.

.

Hermione was sitting at her desk when she realized that Tom was standing right behind her. She didn't stop writing, opting to carry on as though she were unaware of his presence, and considered how he'd gotten past her wards completely undetected. It was disturbing, and more interesting to focus on than the fact that he would probably curse her for her words earlier. Somehow, she'd spoken without even beginning to think, and it'd been hard to determine what she'd even hoped to get out of the situation. Sure, she still wanted him to understand that he posed a threat to her safety, and she was reacting to that. But had she gone too far?

He gripped her braid, pulling her head back so far that her back curved forward for relief. It wasn't as painful as it was uncomfortable, but the quiet fury in his eyes told her that discomfort was the least of her worries. "What are you thinking about, Miss Granger?"

"You."

He smirked, but there was nothing behind it. "Do you have anything to say? To give? An apology perhaps?"

"Would it 'elp?"

He pulled her up with a more humored smirk, shoving her into the nearby wall front first. His hand wrapped itself tighter in her braid as he pushed himself into her, and Hermione closed her eyes briefly and let out a shaky sigh. "No," he told her. "But you should perhaps turn your charms on to some of those Hufflepuff sods, as they took the most of my anger."

"It's too bad, then. I was looking forward to a little masochism."

"What is wrong with you, Mimi?" He asked as he leaned into her, chin coming to rest on her shoulder. "I thought you were seeing things my way. We were finally getting along."

She felt his wand dig into her spine painfully and she closed her eyes to distract herself, back curving in attempt to get away from his magic. It surrounded her though, and Hermione understood that there was nothing she could do to fix this. She could only accept whatever he had planned, and act as though nothing had occurred in the morning. Right now, she was building bridges over the quiet distance that had kept them separated. He hadn't shown her a darker side; therefore it was hard for him to truly feel comfortable with her, as he always had to be careful. But, she'd given him the opportunity to do what he wanted. It wasn't a planned, but it worked.

The place where his wand pressed began to feel as thought it were burning, and she cried slightly, wiggling under his weight. He lifted the wand and placed it a little lower. "I told you before, my dear," the glee in his voice was evident as she felt the heat grow again, "that you would be safe here. Why do you worry so?"

"I'm _z_e last Montague, by the grace of _z_e gods. Empty promises were enough when I wasn't in danger."

He lifted his wand between her shoulder blades, pressing thoroughly and allowing whatever heating charm he was using to seep through the silk of her pajamas. She was sure that there would be bruises from his actions, and she only hoped that they'd heal. "You still doubt me," he said oddly, as though he were actually hurt. Realizing that his hand had loosened its grip, she let her head fall back on his shoulder, body tensing when he shifted his chin very slightly into the curve of her neck. It was the most intimate he'd ever been with her, and she found that she didn't like it. Not while he was hurting her, at least.

"What do I have to do, my dear? Why don't you trust me?"

"You're hurting me."

"I could say the same," he breathed. Hermione swallowed as his wand found its way to the soft flesh behind the curve of her jaw. Slowly, the tip began to warm against her skin. "Is it so hard for you to accept my guidance? Would it be so bad to play house with a half-blood?" If his voice has been any louder, she would have flinched from the hurt and disgust in them.

"What are you asking of me?"

"The same thing I asked before we knew he was truly after you. I want your support, and your trust and submission. I want you by my side."

"I don't trust you."

"I'm going to hurt you, I can't promise that I won't. But you're safe; I can't stress that enough. No one is going to get to you while I'm here," he soothed, his wand tip gradually increasing in temperature.

"Anything could 'appen, Monsieur."

"And you haven't seen anything I'm capable of if it does, Mimi. I don't take to people mistreating what's mine."

Hermione relaxed beneath him, recognizing that she was getting off easy. "D'accord," she cried out as he burned her bare skin. She wasn't incredibly happy that he saw her as a possession, but she'd take what she could get right now.

"Okay, what?" He asked, and she could feel and hear his smirk.

"I think I'm giving you enough 'ere, Monsieur, and getting very little in return. Please don't make me say it."

She froze as he turned his head, lips brushing against her jawbone before coming to rest on the skin he'd marred. He mouthed something that caused the pain to disappear, but she could swear that it still hurt desperately. "You're so strong, little witch. I admire that drive and fight."

Tom pushed off of her, and she turned to face him slowly, looking up at him meekly. He seemed thoughtful as he ran his wand over the unblemished side of her neck before tucking it away and opting to cradle her head in his hand instead. "I wouldn't do anything to break that. It's so silly to fight me. Surely you see that?" he asked quietly.

She backed into the wall and winced at the pain against her spine. "I won't allow myself to be walked over."

He smirked, "Of course not, ma Cherie. And I wouldn't do that to you."

She swallowed, and he let his thumb graze her lower lip as it did earlier in the day. Hermione didn't want to admit it, but he was right. He was soft on her, and punished whomever wronged her without a second thought when need be. She was just as much under his skin as he was hers, and today had been proof that. They were coming to terms with the realizations of their feelings for one another.

It wasn't likely that he'd truly grow to care for her as she could him, but he'd get as close to it as possible for her. The resistance and doubt he'd felt were most likely reactions to the little epiphany, and her bratty behavior toward him under the guise of wanting to protect herself was the like. They were things she'd have to grow used to as their relationship progressed, and she wondered if he'd come to the same awareness. _This is such crap, _she thought to herself.

"It'd be so easy for us if you were just a good girl."

"Us, Monsieur? It feels like _z_is is all just a game for you."

His expression turned serious, "Don't be silly, Miss Granger. Your support of me means more than your could imagine."

Hermione blinked, and it was as though nothing had been wrong to begin with. It was such a weird experience, feeling so much and then being forced to change gears. "But _z_at isn't 'us,' Monsieur. That i_z_ me and you."

He tilted his head; "I am more interested in you than anyone else in this castle, Mimi. Surely that is enough."

"It'll have to be," she murmured as she looked away from him. It was a mistake, as she felt his wand press against the empty flesh at the soft spot between her ribs.

"I could show you how I feel for you."

"Please don't."

Still, he burned her one more time, seeming to revel in her small cry of pain. "If assurances are what you need, then I will provide them," he told her as he leaned forward. Very gently, as though he wasn't sure he really wanted to do it, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and Hermione stood perfectly still, stunned at his action.

"Get some rest," he said softly against her skin. "I'll see you in the morning, my dear." Tom kissed her eyebrow before turning and leaving with a flourish.

She looked around her room with the same curiosity that he had earlier before sitting back down on her desk and finishing up her homework. _I'm horrified and he's a loon,_ she thought to herself, wishing she could tell Draco and Snape; _so, everything is going fine._

For some reason, when she finally lay down, she slept more soundly than she had since she arrived in the 40s. It was another assurance, one she wasn't too sure the meaning of. But, things were going to be okay: they'd both climbed to big of a mountain for them not to be.

* * *

**Author's Note: **For all intents and purposes, Draco never DeathEaters into to castle, and Voldemort has yet to take over anything in the 90s. Sorry for not announcing this earlier!

I'm sorry for being a day late! I wasn't sure I liked the chapter last night, and thought about scraping it. I'm not completely satisfied, but it works for where we're going. Hopefully everyone was able to enjoy it and isn't too upset with me (:

As always, a big thank you to everyone reviewing/favoriting/following. It makes me so happy to see all of you.  
To AvalonTheLadyKiller, all I'm going to say is that I'm still working on it! I know how it's going to end, but some of the steps leading to it are still pretty fishy. At this point, anything could happen (:  
To Dat Tomione (I laughed so hard reading your review name, I love it), let's just say I have a very small social life (it's really taxing to me), and writing is an easy way to quiet my mind, so I can basically just sit down and get shit done. Also, the mistake has been correced, thank you!  
To AtlanteanDiva: Again, I'm super sorry I've confused you. Basically, we're going off the thought that she was someplace else at the time of the Montague's demise, so she survived (I'm not sure the how, as I don't really think it matters bc it's just a lie; but lets say Lady Montague shoved her daughter into the Floo or something just as Grindelwald broke into their home, which is how she ended up with her mother's side of the family). Grindelwald killed everyone within the home, so he assumed the daughter was one of them; however, hearing that Dumbledore's 'godchild' is back shows him that he didn't do exactly as he thought, and he wants to fix that. If it becomes super important, I'll make sure what happened is incredibly clear.

To anyone else that reviewed, I love that you all are loving this and are captivated by Tom and his struggle and how Hermione is dealing with it. It makes me very happy to read how you're feeling about everything (:  
To the Anon that thinks you'd like Burke, you're crazy! ^-^ But I see where he'd be a bit charming if it wasn't for his mouth. He's a bad guy though, and the only bad guy we should like is ickle Tom (:


	13. You and I

**Disclaimer:** I am not JK Rowling, just a fan.

*This is the longest frickin chapter. Ever.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Relaxing in bed the next morning, Tom slowly peeled the orange that had been left for him and drank his daily pot of coffee. There was still an hour before he expected Granger to be up, and he found that he really needed some time to reflect alone. Between finding out that Grindelwald was truly after her and having her seemingly accuse him of wanting her to be hurt (by inviting her to dueling club; like he would actually want someone else to hurt her, _silly witch_), he'd found very little time to reflect. Waking up in her bed alone was enough for him to take a mental health day, but he wasn't so weak minded to do so. Now was a good a time as any, and he could meet the witch for breakfast and attend their classes as though nothing had occurred.

Honestly, he had only meant to spend an hour with her, two at the most. But there had been lavender burning from her bathroom, and Granger turned out to be quite beautiful in her sleep. It was though some wall she kept up all day allowed itself to be broken down, which was shocking to him, as she always seemed far more relaxed than any other person around him. The honesty of her in such a vulnerable state was attractive to him, which was something he wouldn't be ashamed to admit in privacy, despite how peculiar of an admission it would be from him, and everything had lulled him to sleep. He found solace in the fact that he hadn't laid down beside her, which would have been too much to handle on top of everything else.

Before he'd closed his eyes, though, he'd taken a look around her room for things he may have missed. A charmed drawer held enough jewels to upset the Malfoys and Druella Rosier green with envy over the fact that such a quiet witch had so much wealth sitting in a drawer at Hogwarts, of all places. It'd made him curious to know if she had another place, such as a flat or a house she'd spend holidays at, but the thought fell from his head as he continued to observe the contents of her drawers. There had been a few wrapped packages, all for Abraxas, and he wondered dully what she was holding them for.

Her closet was vast and completely befuddling. Much of her clothes and shoes were unmarked, as though she'd created them herself, or had a simple and barely recognizable emblem on thein place of a brand. The styles were different from anything he'd ever seen her in, and he found it curious that she had so much that she never visibly wore. They were like nothing he'd seen in the English Wizarding or Muggle world, which reminded him that he needed to learn more about France, and it's styles and customs. The magazines and papers she received did very little to inform of her culture, and it wasn't very seemly for a wizard to know nothing of his witch, in his opinion. What he did recognize, beyond the vast amount of cloaks and robes, was her Beauxbatons uniform, which caused him more amusement than he really cared for, and a heavy, winter cloak with her family emblem proudly against the left breast. It had been endearing and charming to see proof of family pride that decided along with the French, he'd do his best to encourage her to wear her name proudly. There was nothing to fear anymore, not with Grindelwald already looking for her.

Still, he'd found nothing of interest or alarm, really, which was both upsetting and reassuring. Tom was pleased that he hadn't misjudged her, and that she'd remained transparent with him, but he was still unsure why one of his preferred Knights found so much displeasure in her. There was little more he could do for Burke beside coddle him, and even Granger didn't have such ridiculous needs, not that he wouldn't oblige them if she did. He knew that she would always have a different place in his mind than his proper followers, regardless of wanting her constantly beneath him and responding only to his power and influence.

The evening before had been proof enough of that, as Tom had returned to his room with a quiet indifference after their chat. He hadn't planned on burning her, not really. After taking his frustrations out on the Hufflepuff Dueling Club members, he'd only planned to make her uncomfortable, not actually hurt the witch. He wasn't upset at himself for showing her his displeasure, but it felt as though he had a funny taste in his mouth from doing so (and he was loath to admit it, but her barely there cries and gentle wiggling had been more pleasing than he'd anticipated). More than anything, he'd wanted to sit down and talk with her. Perhaps not equally, though she likely wouldn't sit by his feet and tell him her worries, but he wanted to nonetheless. Her fears were valuable to him, because alleviating them elevated him in her mind and life, and her comfort meant a great deal to him. If a supporter weren't able to trust, then there would be very little to have faith in.

What he was upset about, however, was the fact hat he was disappointed in himself. It wasn't an incredibly normal feeling, and he was unsure if it would help to return to her and do a bit more damage, or force his anger on another. As time passed, the wizard found himself growing fonder of Ganger. More than anything, he wasn't sure what to do with such a feeling. It was a new and strange, not incredibly unpleasing, but not confortable either; there was a degree of vulnerability in it that drew unease to his chest, but he almost liked it, as he felt as though he was being kept on his toes.

The disappointment came when he considered how the witch might feel about him. She hadn't given him any signs that she cared for him any more than need be; even during her more delicate moments, it seemed that she only needed him because he was within reach. For as much as she leaned on him, Granger would be fine if he was suddenly ripped from her, which wasn't something he was used to. He needed her more reliant on him without completely ruining the independence he'd grown to enjoy.

Pushing himself out of bed, the young wizard proceeded to get himself prepared for the day before making his way over to his neighbor's. She was showering when he arrived, relaxing into her bed to wait. As Mashki emerged from beneath her many comforters, he allowed the cat onto his lap. Decidedly, he needed her to be more than a supporter, but making her a Knight was not only impractical but also dangerous, as it made her a greater target to Burke (and anyone who may feel the same as him, despite how upsetting that was to consider). He needed a window, an opportunity to make her more dedicated to and for himself, as well a bit higher and more protected then a follower.

"What's a wizard to do, Mashki?" He asked quietly as he rubbed at the animal's ears, listening as water stopped running.

"Tom?" She peaked out with a frown after a few minutes.

He looked over to find her hair out, and soaking through her robe over her shoulder. Smirking, he decided she was a bit cute when she was wet. "Yes, my dear?" He asked, and it was as though lights flashed in his head.

Tom needed her to be his, officially. For good. The only problem was that he wasn't on good enough terms with Dumbledore to express his interest and declare what he had to offer. He was sure that compared to the others, it was very little. But, in the very least, he'd proven that he was capable of taking care of the Professor's goddaughter. It had to count for something.

Slowly, she smiled at him. But it wasn't the same smile she usually gave him, it was nervous, as though she was unsure as to where she stood with him. _That won't do_, he thought to himself as she summoned her uniform and shut the door to prepare for the day. _That won't do at all._

.

.

"Will you be attending the Halloween ball, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up to find Tom focused on his novel, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he purposely kept his eyes away from her. She resisted smiling, as he would have noticed, and tucked the lace she'd been using to mark her page in her own tome. Allowing a few seconds longer than natural to pass, she watched as he slowly let go of his lip in annoyance.

"I would suggest that you skip with me, but you 'ave to be _z_ere," she smiled, and he looked up from his book to focus on the table before them. It was decorated with lunch, which Hermione was quite certain the elves had made specifically for them, as some of the features were things she hadn't ever noticed on the table in the Great Hall. Idly, she reached forward for a handful of pomegranate seeds, watching him curiously.

"I could take my leave early," he told her measuredly. "But, I do suggest you attend. I get the feeling your Uncle would be very disappointed if you didn't, as his favorite Gryffindor helped to organize it."

She tilted her head in thought and he smirked at her; she was shocked to find that it was almost gentle, with a playful look in his eyes as he reached over and placed a hand on her stocking covered calf, fingers drawing circles. The fire had died out a little while ago, forcing a chill to the room, and the warmth of his touch radiated through the witch strangely. Like always, it brought a quiet calm over her, as though his magic were fitting itself into the curves of her own, but this time was different. As though he were doing it purposely.

"What are you doing?" She asked, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You can feel that?" His curiosity was more pronounced that she'd ever seen it.

"Yes," she started to pull away, but he laid his hand flat to stop her.

"It's harmless," he told her, and it was only then that she realized he was twirling his wand in his other hand, book resting carelessly in his lap. "My Knights can't even recognize my magic indirectly." His voice was thoughtful as he studied her. "I'm a snake, ma Cherie," he smirked, lips tugging apart to reveal his tongue slipping between his teeth. He didn't give any more of an explanation and she decided not to ask. She wasn't the brightest mind of her generation for nothing.

"I'm always aware of you," she told him evenly, hoping to match his introspective tone.

The closest she'd ever get to a smile formed on his face. "Great minds," he told her, but she felt his magic tuck closer to him than normal, as though he were consciously aware of keeping it to himself. She smiled at the compliment, but really reveled in the fact that her being able to sense him hadn't diminished. He was so dominant, with such a different kind of power than she; Hermione doubted that she'd ever be able to stop feeling him.

"I'll go if you ask me."

He frowned, "Will you go to the ball, Miss Granger?"

She leaned her head against the back of the couch, "Should I just show up?"

"Well, I suppose you could coordinate a time with me," he told her blandly, as though he truly had no clue that she was trying to get him to ask her to the dance.

"Tom," she smiled, "you're not dense."

He considered her for a moment, and then sighed. "Will you attend the ball with me, Miss Granger?"

"Well, this is very last minute. I'm not sure I even 'ave anything to wear."

He wasn't very amused. "You expect me to believe that a French Pureblood has nothing formal in her closet?" The wizard shook his head at the thought, "Besides, I'm sure Abraxas or Cygnus have already asked you, ma Cherie. I'm don't know why you even made me do that."

"Because I know you care for my 'appiness."

He studied her carefully before letting his hand slip up her knee, where hers was resting. She watched as he laced his fingers through hers and left them there as though he'd done it a thousand times before. A very small smile quirked her lips as she allowed herself to flush prettily; nothing else had to be done or said. She resisted being too interested in what he was up to, figuring it'd be clear enough soon.

"Anyway, _z_ey did not ask me. Why would they? Cygnus is taking _z_at pretty Ravenclaw witch and Abraxas est going with Eileen." She dropped her book on the floor and got a little more comfortable on the couch, which got cozier as she shifted around.

Tom had changed the sitting room into something more intimate than the one she'd first discovered, seemingly deciding that he wanted someplace else to spend time with her, and Hermione easily approved of what he'd done. Now, when it was just the pair in the room, the room far homier than she'd ever expected someplace in Slytherin to be, with warm colors and a window seat that was always just comfortable enough to sit by with a heavy blanket, which was how the witch liked to spend her evenings as she finished up her homework. There was still a bit of green and grey around, though, which she imagined would be the case, even his future house.

"Well, you're far more comfortable with them. Why wouldn't they take you?" He wasn't actually talking to her, and Hermione resisted laughing at him vocalizing his thoughts.

"Everyone thinks we're dating, Monsieur Riddle. Why would they ask another wizard's witch out?"

His lips pressed into a firm line, and a dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth, on the opposite side he usually smirked on, causing Hermione to grin at him. "You should smile, Monsieur! _Z_ere is nothing wrong with it. You'll be more handsome."

"Am I not handsome when I'm not smiling?" He asked, and she couldn't tell if he was teasing or not.

"Now you're just fishing, Riddle. You know that you're quite good looking," Hermione told him honestly. It was a bit disconcerting, vocalizing that she found him aesthetically pleasing. In fact, she found him generally agreeable, when he wasn't displaying future Voldemort tendencies, and that wasn't as frightening as it should have been.

"You ask a lot of me," he told her, and she made a sound of shock that caused him to shake her hand a little bit in amusement. "Be nice, don't hurt me, smile more," he listed off, mocking her accent horribly. "And you won't even go to the dance with me. I make all these allowances and you still treat me like crap."

Hermione stared blankly at him for a long time, and then he started chuckling so much that his head fell back on the couch and chest began to shake with the effort not to full out laugh. She was unsure of what to say or do, as his weird joking around wasn't normal in any way. Instead, she relaced their fingers, liking the way his warm skin slid across hers.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he finally told her.

"I wanted you to ask me," she admitted, watching him through her lashes.

He let his eyes fall back on her, "Will you, then?" She nodded, allowing her smile to be shier than normal. "Good. You could wear those pretty purple stones in your drawer –or your mothers, you know. That's always alright."

"Are you drunk?"

He frowned, "It's the middle of a school day, and I don't drink around you, Miss Granger. That would be irresponsible." He tilted his head, "Should I be a little colder? Is that what you'd prefer from me?"

She swallowed, allowing her nervousness to return carefully, as though she were fearful that he's snap again. Very slowly, her free hand lifted to the spot he'd burned on her neck. "I 'ope _z_at you are comfortable enough to be yourself, Monsieur. I told you."

"And you don't believe me to be in character now?"

"No."

His eyes had followed her actions, but it wasn't clear if he'd truly seen them or not. Instead, he smirked, "I was thinking about what you'd said, about not knowing me. I thought I'd help to remedy that. You're my girlfriend, after all. It'd be unfortunate if someone had a question you didn't know the answer to."

"I could tell _z_em _z_at out relationship is beyond such petty things as favorite colors and foods."

He chuckled. "Reassuring, I suppose. Privacy is preferred. But, I'm thinking of Burke and whomever else feels that same as he does."

Hermione perked up at the prospect of him sharing secrets with her, and her mind swelled with tips from Draco and Snape. _Don't seem to eager; be honored; keep a serious face, but show interest; don't fucking let him know that you want to know, Granger, you'll ruin everything with those damn doe eyes. _Blinking slowly, she schooled her features to quiet interest.

"It's formal, the ball. But it's also masquerade; McGonagall's idea, of course. I've decided to be a wolf."

She tried not to deflate. "You're going to wear a wolf head?"

"Merlin's balls, no. That's horribly cliché and Gryffindor, ma Cherie. Not to mention tacky. A demi mask, I'll show you this evening. If you'd like, I can have Abe order yours. I don't believe he's sent for his yet."

"I don't want to be wolf."

"You could be anything you want, Miss Granger. Though, I do believe it'd be very…inspiring if we matched."

Hermione looked at him to find extreme humor in his eyes. It made up for the lack of secrets and his constant need to change the subject halfway through conversation. "I have a mask, I have a lot. We're horribly cliché for New Years at Beauxbatons." It was the truth, Fleur had told her they loved to have masquerade dinners for those who stayed beyond during the holiday. And Draco, bless him, had sent her away with more than enough to fit in with anything that may happen during her '40s vacation.'

He looked at her almost fondly. "Anyway, going together will give an air of solidarity to my Knights, and anyone who may aspire to be one, Lady Montague. I believe they're still unsure of your place. I would like to…give them more, without putting it into words."

"Why?"

He looks strangely at her, obviously not used to be questioned. "Action speaks louder than words."

She watched as his eyes fell down to their joined hands, and he lifted them into the air before bringing them to his mouth. Kissing her knuckles gently, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. _What the hell is he doing?_ Behind the shelter of their hands, she could see the telltale sign of a smile crinkle the corners of his eyes. However, he let it dissolve before she got a chance to see it.

"Tom," she started cautiously, but was interrupted by someone knocking and entering.

"My Lord," Abraxas bowed, "my Lady."

The witch resisted chocking on her own tongue as Tom's eyes widened at his Knight's choice of greeting. She noted that he didn't seem displeased, and felt her heart expand dangerously in her chest, suddenly desperate to know what had occurred at the meeting.

"I believe you all will want to see a letter my father has sent me."

"Leave it on the table, Knight," the dark wizard spoke solemnly, chin lifted slightly and eyes focused. He didn't pull his hand away from hers as Abraxas' fell to them, giving a smirk to the pair before doing as asked and disappearing. "I want to kill him, sometimes," he murmured, finally letting go.

"Please don't," she spoke just as quietly, eyes focused on the letter._ My Lady, _she heard the blonde say in her mind over and over, until startled out of her head by an elf winking into the room. It wasn't the first time she'd been addressed as such, but it was the most powerful.

"Master Dumbledore requests Lady Montague's presence."

She looked at her wizard to see his jaw clench carefully before turning back to the elf. "Tell him to connect the Commons Floo, and I'll be there in a moment."

The previous contents of the table disappeared, leaving only the beautifully written letter. He summoned it closer and moved to the edge of the love seat. Very briefly, he reached for it, but decided not to. Standing, he offered her his arm and helped her up as well, turning to face the witch with a calm expression on his face.

"What do you think it is?" He asked her so quietly that she wouldn't have known he'd spoken if she hadn't been looking at him.

"I don't know. Perhaps…oh, gods."

"It's going to be fine, Mimi. I'm not sure how I can assure you of that any further. Whatever Malfoy and your uncle are adamant about interrupting your school day for, it will pass. I promise," he let his hand caress her cheek and she turned into him. Hermione found that it wasn't hard to find comfort in him, not with an actual threat. She knew, at least, that she hadn't been discovered, as she was sure that Dumbledore would find her himself and drag her out of the castle so quickly they'd wonder if she'd been their at all. The only thing that could have occurred was her being outed (and she wouldn't put it past shifty Burke, with him constantly creeping around their quarters), or that Grindelwald discovered the location of the castle, which was an even bigger problem. However, the witched hoped that they'd go on lockdown if such a thing were to happen.

"Maybe the world just realized I'm a Montague."

He smirked, but it wasn't very genuine. "I'm kind of sad if wasn't me who told them, then."

She laughed, and lifted her hand to cover his, turning lightly into his palm. His thumb travelled over her lips, and she was less shocked by the action this time. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Grounding me," she told him, relatively honestly. The pleasure in his eyes didn't go unnoticed. "It i_z_ nice to know I 'ave you, Monsieur Riddle."

After a moment, he leaned in and left a kiss on the curve of her nose, right between her eyes. She was surprised, and let a mixture of pleasure mix with the original emotion as he looked at her.

"Go to your uncle, little witch. I'll join you after I read Lord Malfoy's letter."

Hermione didn't let his calling someone else by the title bother her, instead, she pushed up on her toes for another kiss, which he gave to the top of her head before pushing her away with a smirk. Not thinking about how under dressed she was without her school robes or cloak, she slipped out the room and to the commons in her grey, wool trousers and Slytherin blouse.

"You're looking lovely, Lady Granger," Burke grinned, momentarily distracting her. Pausing to look at him, she realized that the more important of the Knights were all gathered in the commons, lunch on the table before them as they watched her curiously. _What the hell,_ she thought with a frown, wondering if they were told to spend lunch here or decided to on their own.

"Merci, Monsieur Burke," she told him before dipping into the fireplace. Smiling at them all as solidly as possibly –she was loosing confidence without Tom's nearness, which was upsetting- before calling out her destination.

.

Dumbledore was waiting just a few feet from his Floo upon arrival. He looked at her very slightly frazzled. "I do apologize, dear, but this couldn't wait until this evening."

"Abraxas had just given us a letter of information from his father when your elf arrived."

"Did you read it?"

She shook her head; "I left it with Tom and came straight here. He'll be here soon."

He sighed deeply. "That's for a the best, then. For all my displeasure, he is well-equipped take care of you when I cannot. Not that you are in need of anyone else's protection, my dear."

She gave him a weak smile, growing weary of whatever he was putting off telling her. "I am thankful for anyone who likes me enough provide it. I forgot to mention it, but the Malfoy's extended-"

He lifted a hand to stop her, "I know, dear. He sent me a formal letter a few days before he sent yours. I believe he will be here a little later, actually. Though, it's best we keep quiet his interest for as long as possible."

"Oncle Albus, what's going on?" She blurted out before he could ramble any longer.

"Owls can find a witch or wizard anywhere," he told her, turning for his desk. Hermione followed and collapsed into a chair. "We've been able to block any with any tracing spells on them, but I have to stress the word spells, Hermione. Neither myself nor Lord Malfoy even considered the use of Muggle devices."

"Oh, gods," she pressed her fingers to her lips in shock just as Tom came barreling through the Floo.

"You didn't think it vital to include one of us in these trackings, Professor?" He asked by way of greeting. The anger and bitterness in his voice was clear and reassuring to the witch, more than she'd ever expect it to be. Without time to dwell on what may have changed, or what it meant, she simply listened as he continued, "I could have told you. I know far more then either of you about the happenings of the Muggle world right now. He's a fellow Half-blood, after all. You're curiosity doesn't just end, not with dreams like his."

Hermione took a deep breath in, weighing his words between her own thoughts. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She wasn't supposed to gain popularity in the Wizarding World, and she damn sure wasn't supposed to attract the attention of the Darkest wizard in power during the 40s. Most definitely, of course, was the fact that he wasn't supposed to _find _her. And by Muggle means, no less…

"How much time?" She asked quietly, feeling Tom's magic wrap around her as he moved to stand behind the chair she was in. His fingers brushed against the burn, thumb wrapping around the back of her neck as his hand came to rest on the innermost part of her shoulder in comfort.

Dumbledore watched the exchange with curiosity, but said nothing. "It will still be relatively hard for him to find the location of Hogwarts, Mimi. We are still the safest place for you, as it is Unplottable, and protected by many a ward and charm, my dear. In fact, Lord Malfoy is meeting with the board of Governors right now to discuss plans to refresh such wards and charms."

"I have faith in 'ogwarts, Oncle Albus. I am afraid of its students," she told him.

Fortunately, he didn't take her fears lightly. "I want to suggest announcing who you are, Mimi. Furthering your protection within the walls would be easier if they knew you were a Montague."

"With all due respect, we're working on that, Professor. When Mimi and I feel the time is truly proper, she'll make the announcement. For now, we should simply tell the professors that she's a person of interest to Grindelwald, and force them into a Wizarding Oath not only to assure her safety, but protect the secret as well. It's the only way."

"You've thought this through," the older wizard replied carefully, inclining his chin at the Slytherin. "We cannot force other wizards into an Oath, Tom. That is illegal."

"Hunting a child is illegal. Murdering her family is illegal. Anything we do to ensure her safety is child's play." They all fell silent, and felt the wards on the room shift as Lord Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace, far more regal than anyone's presence should be. "The boy is right, Albus. We shouldn't dally in protecting the witch."

"Lord Malfoy," Hermione heard Tom say, a quiet respect in his voice. She could tell he'd bent his head as he spoke, though nothing else about him seemed to show any submission.

Pulling herself together, she stood and turned to him with just as much grace and queenly elegance as anyone would expect from the last of a long line of purity. Very barely making eye contact, she disregarded curtseying for him and lifted her hand in his direction. He was neither shocked nor appalled by her actions, filling the space between them and falling to one knee before taking her offered hand and pressing her knuckles to his forehead. It was far more than she expected or had been prepared for, but she let a subtle confidence fall across her face. She could feel Tom's pride, and wondered idly what Dumbledore's face looked like.

Now, she curtsied out of politeness. "_Seigneur_ Malfoy," she said primly. "I am charmed and humbled by your interest."

He kissed the back of her hand, "Lady Montague, the honor is most definitely my own." Touching her knuckles to his head one more time, he rose grandly and smiled handsomely down at her. He kept her hand in his, continuously rubbing at the skin, eyes roaming over her face as though she'd disappear any moment. "As beautiful as every Lady before you."

"You are too generous with your words, mon seigneur. Please, call me Mimi," she smiled prettily. He seemed overwhelming pleased at her allowance, and Hermione found herself surprised at his charm. For all of his family pride and integrity, the man before her was more dignified and lovely than any she'd ever meant. Septimus Malfoy was young –perhaps just 20 years older than the witch- and more handsome than his children, with slightly darker hair, though he was just as pale as any of them. He was a tall man of at least 6'7'', with a face of princely structure and a lithe frame. There was honesty to his eyes and genuine compassion in expression. She wondered if it was simply because of who she was supposed to be, or if he was truly better. If so, what had happened to take such obvious life, purpose, and vibrancy from the family?

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tom Riddle clasp his hands behind his back, and reality swarmed her. The Malfoy's _had _been an honorably family, despite their need for blood purity. She'd read an entire book on their philanthropy and foundations in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds during her years at Hogwarts. It was such a shame.

"Septimus," Dumbledore drew in the blonde's attention, "Please, sit. You too, Tom. We have a bit to discuss."

The seat Hermione had been in expended to accommodate two, and she politely pulled her hand out of the Malfoy's hold to sit with Tom, who laced his fingers through hers as soon she was settled. For as much as the action startled her, she felt soothed by it. He was solid warmth in the hole she was sinking deeper into.

"If you don't mind," she started, glancing between the older wizards to find them watching her joining with the dark haired wizard curiously. The professor motioned for her to continue as the blonde watched her in quiet awe. She gave him a small smile, "I don't want anyone to know who I am. I just want to be Mimi Granger, no old blood or last of a line."

"Even if it keeps you safe?" The Malfoy asked.

"Safety i_z_ subjective. I'm afraid, yes, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone within the castle was 'elping that madman. But, _z_ey don't know who I am. I'm just Dumbledore's niece, or goddaughter. If _z_ey knew tho…I don't know. I would be more afraid. I don't think Grindelwald would announce exactly who I am to anyone…not unless he was desperate."

"And you don't think he is?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not yet. Maybe soon. He's, how you say," she let go of Tom's hand to make it seem as though she was holding a large rifle. They all stared blankly until she said, "Bang, bang."

"Hunting. He's hunting," Tom nodded, slowly relacing their fingers and pulling their hands into his lap. Curiously, he eyed his minion's father, and Hermione swore she could see a hint of mistrust in his expression. "Like I said, her being a Montague won't be made public. Miss Granger is the only person who has to live with a deranged wizard at her back, announcing who she is would make it difficult if she needed to leave again."

She looked at him in wonder, having not thought of such a good reason. It made her curious to know what he was planning. Slowly, the Malfoy ran his hand over his hair, getting comfortable in his seat. Dumbledore stroked his beard, despite it being much shorter –and therefore more awkward- than it was in the future.

"Ok. Suppose we keep this quiet, the Board is going to want to know why he's interested. They won't just tamper with the wards for fun. What do you suggest, young Riddle?"

"She is Professor Dumbledore's ward. If that isn't enough reason, then perhaps we can hold off on informing them, push her a little further into the public eye. Abraxas will make it his top priority to keep her safe before then, and she has been mine since the start of term. It would take less then a month to make Mimi Granger a legend, if done properly. The public is already interested. Let's give them more. Make her into something that could be considered a target."

Hermione resisted being upset about being discussed as though she weren't there, forcing herself to remember the time. She wasn't supposed to be heard, let alone seen in this period, so she'd continue to take exactly what she could get. Realizing that Malfoy and Dumbledore were discussing a way to project her without making it incredibly obvious, she sighed quietly and leaned her head on Tom's shoulder, seeing just how far he was willing to let their intimacy go outside of the sitting room.

When he pressed his lips into her temple, she realized what he was doing. Playing nice with Dumbledore, while greatly for her benefit, helped him to gain standing in the Professor's eyes; and showing that he would put her before much else in his life, especially so young, would prove that he was a proper suitor. He didn't have the luxury of having a parent write a letter of interest, or the rapport that would allow him a better chance. Instead, he was charming Dumbledore as subtly as possible…and she liked it. It was a sick feeling, but she truly wanted to know just how far he would go to secure what he wanted. To secure _her._

But was he also trying to show her something else? Perhaps…honestly, Hermione felt like a bit of an idiot. He'd flat out told her that actions speak louder than words, and showed her a more gentle side. She knew what lurked beneath the surface of him, but he peeled back enough layers to show her that he _cared_, in his own twisted way. It wasn't even surprising that she was readily able to accept him. All the time they spent together had forced her walls to crumble and allowed him into her heart, just as she had accepted Draco. It wasn't exactly the same degree of evil she'd accepted previous –because Draco turned out to be rather thoughtful and kind when he wasn't forced to be a thick skinned Malfoy-, but relating the two made it easier.

She understood Tom Riddle, as scary as it seemed, and she found that it wasn't quite as bad as she thought it would be. The closer she grew to him, the more he attached himself to her. The witch had been telling herself that for weeks, but she was only just realizing what it meant. She had to accept him for him to accept her. It would have been too much for any other 18 year old to come to terms with, but in the end she could go home, and deal with all the troubles she created for herself when she was finally forced to. Right now, all she had to do was live.

Slowly, she turned so that her forehead rested against his arm, and pressed her nose into the clean scented fabric of his shirt. He was speaking now, explaining the faults of allowing her to be courted by some popular actor, seemingly unbothered by telling adults about themselves. She smiled at his confidence, and righted herself beside him.

"If I 'ave to be a socialite, zen I at least want to spend time with people I care about. I'll become friendly with anyone you deem influential, Seigneur Malfoy, but I don't want Abraxas too far away while I do it. Being connected to you all on top of Oncle Albus should be enough to elevate my celebrity, right?"

"Of course," he replied with a nod.

"But then I'm just some pretty witch who knows the right people."

"We can feature you in the Prophet, if you'd like."

"So I can talk about the latest trends and gossip about witches I care nothing for?"

He laughed handsomely, "We'll give you more of a voice. Display your intelligence. It'd be easier if you were a Mudblood, though I'm thankful you're not; it'd give him a reason to hate you."

She shrugged, "I could date one."

"Do you know any?" He asked curiously.

"Well, non, Monsieur." She couldn't help but be amused, and looked over at Tom, who had taken an expressionless look on his face. She'd purposely left him out of her plans, until now, at least. "I've got a Half-blood, though," she grinned.

He looked at her calculatingly, and then smirked. "And one with no parents at that, my dear." The pair shared a very odd moment that caused Hermione to feel numbness in her toes; it felt as though they were the only two people in the room, or the world for that matter, and it was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

Dumbledore sighed, and it drew her back into the room. "We need more."

Hermione bit her lip, silently agreeing. She couldn't help but wonder who would even care. Sure, they seemed to love Dumbledore having a niece, but that was only because of her sudden appearance. She hadn't really been out since then, but she was sure that would have died down.

"I have an idea," Tom spoke evenly, looking away from her to glance between the older wizards. Her skin chilled, somehow already aware of the suggestion he was going to make. She was about to become even better bait. "His followers are around, right? Why don't I kill one?"

"Tom!" Dumbledore exclaimed, shock clear on his face, and Malfoy's expression turned incredibly serious, as he spoke in the same instance, "That isn't something to joke around about, young Riddle. Murder is a crime."

"He's doing worse. He's out to kill her."

"We're getting off subject," the Professor interjected.

Hermione clenched the young wizard's hand. "I think he i_z_ on to something. We could give them incentive, make it look as though I snubbed one of _z_em. They didn't take to not getting what _z_ey wanted, and I 'ad to defend myself."

"Absolutely not. You aren't getting blood on your hands," Tom said adamantly.

"Why do you care so much?" Malfoy asked him with a frown.

"Well, I am Head Boy; my fellow students safety are of utmost importance to me. Especially when said student is not only in my House, but my girlfriend, as well. I care too much about Mimi to allow any harm to come to her," he told him, sincerity heavy in his voice. Hermione allowed herself to flush with color, eyes falling to her lap. She wasn't even sure if it were proper for Pureblood witches to have boyfriends in this time.

"And you're okay with this relationship, Professor," Malfoy asked. "Sure, we've witnessed it for the duration of this conversation, but does it please you that your goddaughter is dating someone below her station?"

Hermione frowned at the way he'd said it, as though he truly disliked the idea. The Malfoy family weren't supposed to have any trouble with Purebloods dating Half-bloods…had he hoped she would choose Abraxas?

Dumbledore lifted his chin in consideration, looking from the blonde to his supposed goddaughter and her boyfriend. She kept her eyes carefully away from his until he finally said, "Her happiness and safety mean more than anything to me, Septimus. Mimi has been through too much to make it back here. Her decisions, for the most part, will always be her own."

She smiled shyly at him as Malfoy hummed in thought. Tom, however, watched his professor carefully, as though waiting for the joke to fill the air. When it didn't, his eyes fell down to their joined hands, and he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles softly. "Thank you," Hermione said lowly, making sure to keep her cheeks at least a little pink.

"I won't, however, let you kill anyone, Tom, and I will act as though such a suggestion was never made. Beyond that, I agree with my goddaughter's thoughts. Septimus, perhaps you know of someone that it a more valued supporter of Grindelwald? I'm afraid with my studies and teaching, he and I are no longer in contact enough for me to have such leads." Hermione recognized the joke, and gave the Professor a very small smile that he returned.

"I will see what I can do," he said evenly. "We'll also decide just how baiting them will go. Really, Lady Montague, it'll be unseemly for you to be defending yourself. Perhaps Abraxas can join you on that outing? We'll see." He became thoughtful for a bit, and then frowned and asked, "Are we done here?"

"For now," Dumbledore decided.

Malfoy rose, "Then I will await further correspondence. Good day, Albus, young Riddle," he said mildly before looking fondly at the witch. "And it was an honor, Mimi. Please, do consider my invitation to spend some of your holiday at the Manor; you won't regret it." He smiled, and made his way for the door after the remaining wizards bid him farewell.

Hermione rose just as he stepped out, "Monsieur!" She called, moving swiftly to catch him. It was time for some ass kissing to gage where she stood with the man, one-on-one. He was at the bottom of the alcove when she reached the door, turned to face her with a handsome smile on his face. By that look, she assumed that like most of the Slytherin's who fell easily to her, she could do no wrong to him. "I don't think _z_at my correspondence truly expressed how grateful I am that you are not upset with me for using your son. I'm so happy to be welcomed into your thoughts and protection, as I am so undeserving of such kindness."

Hesitating only briefly, he lifted a hand to her face, and it felt so different from when Tom touched her. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable, and she could tell that it was a natural thing to do with his belief that she would be an honorary Malfoy, but it wasn't _right._

"You're father was a mentor to me, Lady Montague. Knowing that I can honor his memory by accepting his kin into my life means more than you will ever know."

"Merci, Seigneur Malfoy. And I will accept your invitation," she pulled out of his hold and smiled sweetly before leaning in to hug him. "It must be so nice to 'ave such a caring papa," she tested, and he wrapped his arms around her as well. Admittedly, it did feel nice to have a dad-hug, which was something she hadn't realized she missed. He didn't seem to be very comfortable, but he at least tried to provide whatever he thought she was looking for.

"Your father cared for you very much, Mimi," he told her quietly.

"I know," she sighed. "Just, you know."

"Sure," he rubbed at her back before pulling away. "I know that you have a very impressive godfather, but I am also here if you need anything."

"Thank you." She smiled again, which caused him to as well. "For everything. It feels good for people to know." He nodded, and she turned to start back up the steps, as he bid her a good afternoon. "You too, Monsieur," she called before disappearing.

Hermione smiled largely at Dumbledore after she shut the door, and he allowed a twinkle to shine his eyes in response, understanding her success. Tom was standing beside him, as though the two were having a conversation of importance before she stepped back into the room. At her curious look, he smirked at her, unclasping his hands and walking over to her. "Do you have a new uncle, my dear?" He asked teasingly.

"Family never 'urt anybody," she told him as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

He frowned, "Speak for yourself."

Looking back to Dumbledore, Hermione bit her lip. "Might I have whatever Grindelwald sent me?"

He looked hesitant. "Sure," he moved around his desk and pulled a rather large package. "You have to be of respectable blood to open it," he told her with a hard look. "I really suggest leaving it alone, Mimi. Leaving it here."

She reached for it, but allowed Tom to take it for her. "I'll let you know if I open it."

"Enjoy your afternoon off from classes, alright my dear? Let me know if you need another day to process everything. You too, Tom. I am thankful that you care so deeply for my goddaughter. I hope to see you both at the Ball on Friday."

He nodded in response, and Hermione hugged the Professor before the pair stepped into the Floo. "Tom is too 'appy about it for me to try and ditch, Oncle. Can we enter our sitting room from 'ere?"

"I was unaware that it had a functioning fireplace."

"It does now," he smirked just as they disappeared in the flames. He set her box on a nearby table before turning to study her. "I think he's in love with you."

Hermione took a step back from him, frowning deeply. "Pardon?"

"Abraxas mentioned that he was obsessed with your father, with becoming the man, even. Taking you into is care would be the ultimate win for him, if this is true."

"I think 'e is just being nice, Monsieur. Really."

Tom shrugged, reached for her hand, and pulled her back to their couch. "How do you feel, my dear?"

She curled into her spot, glancing around for Mashki. "I like your kindness. You should use it more."

He smirked, "Oh, sure." He sobered for a moment, "What do you think is in the box?"

"I cannot even begin to consider, Monsieur. I'm so afraid to open it. I'm 'orrified of _z_e whole situation."

He considered her for a moment, and then motioned for her to come closer. Hesitantly, she did, and he brushed his fingers over her face before letting them skim down her neck and arm, lacing his fingers through hers again. It was such a careful action that Hermione found herself more endeared to him. It told her a lot, his tenderness remaining without anyone else's eyes on them, and it wasn't something she bothered to wonder about or question, because she understood his silent gestures better than she understood herself these days. She was only a shell now, anyway.

"I know," he replied quietly. "But I meant what I said. You'll be safe here." He waited for her to look at him before speaking again, and she allowed a glassy look to fill her eyes. "With Malfoy, and the Blacks. For as much as Burke dislikes you, I don't believe he would ever let anything happen to you, like most of the Knights. Despite still feeling short sticked by my explanations of our relationship, they wouldn't want to face my displeasure of letting any harm come to you."

He touched her face again with his free hand, as though he found comfort in the action, watching her attentively. "You'll be safe with me."

She frowned, and moved closer to his touch. He frowned, "What's wrong?"

"You're so nice to me, when you want to be, at least. And careful. You 'ave no reason to be."

"Why would I let someone so precious slip through me fingers?" He asked, as though he were questioning himself rater than answering her.

_Keep going, _she willed silently, hoping he would realize how much she'd grown to mean to him since they've meet. She'd seen him coming to terms with everything for weeks now, and this week had given them enough to show that she needed him as much as he needed her…even if her end was built on lies and treachery.

"Besides, I told you already, my dear. It's you and I, and them. They don't know you like I do. They don't," he paused and Hermione closed her eyes.

"They don't know _me_ like you do."

The witch leaned into him, head resting on his chest. She felt him tense harshly before he finally relaxed into her. It was a strange moment, attempting to bury herself into him and allowing him to use whatever weird charm he'd pressed upon her earlier. The feel of him consciously twining his magic into hers was soothing, even if she didn't really understand it.

"Thank you for being so supportive today," she murmured.

He was quiet for a long time, and she could tell he was mulling things over. Hermione wondered if he regretted anything that had taken place. At any moment, he could change his mind about everything. He could go back to being incredibly suspicious of her and allow his Knights to treat her as they pleased. There was such a small line between everything, because even if he called her his girlfriend, she wasn't really. It was like any false relationship in the Wizarding circuit, built on unofficial power. If she were honest with herself, he really had no reason to feel anything toward her, and she wasn't sure if he did, or if it was all a show.

The man of her time only gave when there was something in it for him, and he displayed that mentality even now. Tom was Slytherin, after all. She knew she was but another pawn in his little game, and even if she gained more standing with his Knights, he may always view her as a possession.

Tentatively, he pulled his hand from hers and out from where it'd been wedged between their bodies. As the fireplace roared to life and soft music filled the air, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and secured her position against him. Everything in Hermione's mind fell silent, and she wasn't sure what it meant.

His lips pressed against her hair gently as he murmured, "I protect what's mine, my dear."

* * *

**Author's Note:** *cries from how badly my fingers hurt after this* I honestly had every intention of never posting the original part of this (Tom asking her to the dance), because it had nothing to do with anything, ever. But it somehow turned into a massive post that slowly started to mold properly into the story. I thought it fit in nicely, if only for a time reference and a chance to see what was going on in his mind in terms of Hermione...and then Abaraxas waltzed in and changed the happy-go-lucky feel. I'm so shocked at where this went that I don't really even know what to say, except for: "um...yeah." It advanced so far beyond where I'd expected it to, but I still really stand by it fitting nicely.

Alas, you all got exactly 14 pages of an update. (I felt that it was a bit round-about and there is a casualness that I can't seem to shake, but I'm working on it, so) Hopefully it was enjoyable and not too long ^-^

As always, I want to send a thank you so all of my reviewers! And a big hello to all of my followers/favoriters. It really means so much to me that you guys all come round every week to read my story.

To AvalontheLadyKiller: Thank you! That's such a crazy compliment (and a lot of pressure, oh my). I totally see how you would consider that a way he views her. He hasn't really had anyone to care for (or, dare I say, really wanted to care for anyone the way he seems to her), so it really isn't a stretch. Hopefully we'll see how that part of his character develops over the next few chapters *crosses fingers* ^-^  
I'm hesitant to use Aberforth just because I have no idea how to write him. I do have a soft spot for stories that feature him, I'm just not sure right now. If all goes as planned, Hermione will be telling someone else about her woes (and the person will shock and maybe upset some people). We'll see though.

To DatTomione: (Still laughing, even more now) Thank you! Hopefully the bit of Tomione action in this fed the need ^-^ If not, I'm pretty sure the next update will feature some more. Yes, Burke's role will grow (and you will love/hate him, unfortunately). As for Dumbledore, I'm still struggling with his character because I see him going in two directions right now. However, his role should increase when Grindelwald becomes a greater threat. (I can't _wait _to post this scene, it's one of the few I have prewritten.)

To Sdrlana21: Nooo! There's a lot more left. Hermione has got to get back to the 90s (right? ? ? ?) (:

To Obey the Muse: (I peeped the change at the last minute) I'll be sure to explain more about it as the story progresses. However, you should have no fear of a Montague blowing her cover. She made up the name, remember? (;

And, again, to everyone else, thank you! :D It really does make my day to read reviews, and see new followers/favorites. As always, if something isn't too clear or you want more info, feel free to question me. Have a great week, everyone (:


	14. The Masked Man

**Disclaimer: **I'm not JK Rowling, just a fan (unfortunately).

*Another long one.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up to find Minerva McGonagall staring at her curiously, if a little hesitantly. It wasn't a secret that the Head Girl cared very little for her, and the Slytherin witch found odd that she was even bothering to speak with her.

"Yes?" She asked, wiping at her face. It'd dried from the harsh air beating through the bridge, and felt tough against her fingers. Even though she'd bottled up enough during her time here, she was happy she hadn't been caught crying. In all honesty, it was stupid and ridiculous, anyway. Crying about her situation wasn't helpful or productive, and witches from her House weren't so easily emotional, anyway. If she'd been caught _crying_, oh goodness.

"Are you, um, alright?"

She allowed her look to turn cold, "Of course I'm alright, little Gryffindor. Why would I not be?"

"You're sitting on the cold ground in the middle of the night. Now, you can either tell me what your problem is, or I can dock points and give you a week's worth of detention," McGonagall replied primly, reminding her very slightly of the woman in the future. Her nose was slightly turned upward, lips tense and eyes completely serious. The familiarity was oddly reassuring, in a way that Tom could never be, and it pleased her enough to lighten up and smile shyly. If she could still find comfort in things she was accustomed to in her proper time, then all hope wasn't lost for her.

"I was going to visit my Oncle, and I just…decided to sober up."

For what it was worth, the Gryffindor looked completely scandalized, "You're drunk, Miss Granger? Twenty-five poi-"

"No! Please, Mademoiselle, do you really think a lady of my stature would allow 'erself to be seen so indisposed?" Hermione pushed herself up and smoothed her hands over her Alpaca cloak, watching as the other witch eyed it strangely. It wasn't a popular blend in the Wizarding world, but it was warm as hell, and she couldn't bring herself to wear the fur-lined ones she'd been sent away with.

"I simply meant _z_at was feeling a little down, and didn't want to alarm him anymore than showing up at nearly midnight would. I believe his rooms are on the way to your tower? We could go together, if you'd like."

It was clear that McGonagall didn't believe her even a little bit, but she turned and motioned for Hermione to come with her. "Well, it is my duty as Head Girl to ensure the safety and well being of my fellow students, so I couldn't leave you out here, anyway," she said by way of excuse.

Hermione sighed, and wondered lightly if that was what she sounded like when she'd gotten her Prefects badge…or just in general. Deciding she didn't want to talk the walk in silence, she folded her arms over her chest, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her cloak, and peaked curiously at her one day Head of House. "I 'ear that you are very excited about _z_e Ball this week."

"I'm sure those aren't the words you're intended used, but yes. I am quite pleased with how it turned out. He has quiet the eye for detail."

_My intended?_ Hermione resisted choking. Being called his equal by Abraxas and hearing that other's thought they were betrothed was too much to take in one day…or ever, for that matter. For as much as she liked and was enchanted by the dark wizard, she wouldn't be anywhere close to marrying him, let alone becoming engaged. She'd be gone long before than, anyway.

"Yes, he does. Though, I can't say 'e's very good at furniture transfiguration. Hopefully, you didn't leave him in charge of anything like _z_at."

McGonagall gave an incredibly tight smile, as though she didn't want to find anything Hermione said humorous, but couldn't help it. Admittedly, it felt nice to be able to see her falter from the shell she kept herself in, and the Slytherin witch decided to try just a little harder to at least be on speaking terms with her.

"Of course not. Even if he was capable, it's my forte."

Hermione giggled, drawing an interested look from the Head Girl as they finally reached the warmth of the castle. "I can tell you 'e wouldn't be very pleased if he 'eard this right now."

"I can't imagine he would be."

Sensing that she was about to close the line of communication, likely from becoming too friendly with a Slytherin, she switched gears. "And it's a masquerade, non? I am so very happy to attend one. At Beauxbatons, we usually have one for New Year's Eve."

"I didn't realize you attended Beauxbatons," she said curiously, and Hermione could tell she was fishing for more information.

She frowned. "Well, what did you think? I was home schooled? My family has more means _z_en _z_at, assure you."

"I meant no harm, Miss Granger. We received very little information about you, I simply assumed," her voice died out as they started up a staircase. "Anyway, yes, it's masquerade. I debated giving the Yule Ball that theme, but Riddle thought a themed Yule would be tacky."

"Oh, I don't think so. Perhaps masquerade themed, but something like Winter Wonderland, or –oh my, Miss McGonagall, I would love to 'elp you with ideas. Something like _A Christmas Carol _or _The Nutcracker _would be so lovely."

McGonagall looked skeptically at her. "_The Nutcracker _is a Muggle play, Miss Granger."

"Art appreciation knows no bounds, thank you. Any Pureblood who believes otherwise isn't someone you want to be friends with."

Silence fell between and they drew closer to Dumbledore's rooms. Finally, after Hermione had grown sure that McGonagall would never talk to her again, she said, "I'm sure the Head Boy wouldn't mind throwing away his Yule duties, Miss Granger. I'll inform you when I begin planning."

As they stepped in front of the alcove, Hermione gave her the smile that had worked on her Slytherin, and watched as she seemed to relax a bit. "Oh, merci beaucoup. It will be so lovely to work with someone less obnoxious _zan_ those Ravenclaw witches. And you may call me, Mimi. I don't care for formalities, too much." Pushing the envelope, Hermione leaned in and gave a very careful kiss to both of the Gryffindor's cheeks.

"Alright," she said stiffly, obviously unsure of a lot of things.

"Thank you for walking me here, as well. Hopefully we can chat again soon."

McGonagall didn't quite smile as she walked away, but Hermione was sure she had just gained a new acquaintance. One separate from anything she had brewing in Slytherin, at that.

"You'll have to add Lion Tamer to the list now, won't you?"

She turned to find Dumbledore standing in the shadows of his steps, and gave him a small smile. "Is it such a bad thing?"

He chose not to answer her, instead saying, "I was wondering when you'd arrive. How are you feeling, truly?"

The witch pushed by him to get inside, attempting to fight the tears from her eyes. Honestly, she felt like everything was unfair and she wanted him to send her home this very moment. But, that wasn't possible or constructive. Instead, she pulled off her cloak and collapsed into his couch, kicking off her shoes before putting her feet up on the soft cushions. "I pulled the short stick, honestly. Focusing on my situation is hard, so I want to know what Draco and Snape are doing. I want to know how Harry and Ron are fairing. I wonder what it would be like if I'd gotten to be Head Girl instead of getting sent here. And then, I just don't know anymore, Dumbledore. I didn't think it would be like this. I'm still not very sure that your future ideas on time travel are accurate, and I'm afraid so much has changed."

"Is it the future you'll return to you're afraid of, or the fact that you've changed?" He sat down across from her, and it was only then that she realized he was in his pajamas. It was sweet, and made his sting a little less potent.

"I know that I'm different. I'm not afraid of myself because I'm doing my job; I'm Mimi. Anyone else would have changed, too. I'm afraid of the future. Not only does Voldemort _know _me, but he could have changed because of me. I know Tom now, and he is so far away from the man he is in my time that I'm worried I'm screwing everything up."

He considered her. "Have you read my papers on the theories of time travel?"

"I read the overview, I drew my on conclusions on where you pulled your theories. They made sense, but now…it doesn't feel the same."

He nodded. "I told you before that I'll worry for you, my dear. I know it can be tough, constantly having to change gears and think on both the offensive and defensive, but you've proven that you're the best-suited witch for the task. With him, you're everything you need to be. And here, you're everything you should be. It's interesting to watch, but it shows me that you're going to be fine."

"Thanks," she smiled, not quite sure he understand what she was telling him. A tea service appeared, and he prepared for the both of them. "Can the box really only be opened by a Pureblood?"

"I believe so. We should have gotten Septimus to open it while he was here, but alas…I don't think it's wise to. The contents of the box don't matter. It only matters that he was able to send it."

"I suppose," she said, smiling her thanks as he passed her a cup. She sipped it slowly, admiring the taste. For some reason, it always tasted so lovely with him. Everything about being closer to Gryffindor felt lovelier, and she felt it was a sign that Hermione was still under there somewhere.

Still, she was going to get that damn box open. She needed to know what was inside it. Yes, it was important that it'd gotten to her, but Hermione was so sure that there was more to it.

"Sir, is it true that Lord Montague mentored Lord Malfoy?"

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "It's a special case, my dear. I was sad when I learned he accepted you as a Malfoy; grateful, but sad, and a little nervous. He knew the Montague's children, so I was worried he'd see through you. But, like I told you, you favor the family.

"Anyway, yes, it's true. Septimus even lived with the Montague's as an apprentice for about a year after Hogwarts, while he was courting his wife and what have you. Massimo was an incredible politician and, less known, very talented with the Art of Potions. He used many influences that British wizards continue to frown upon, such as Asian and Native American. He was an amazing man, your father."

"My father was a dentist," Hermione told him, a look of disgust coming over her face. She couldn't help it. If Dumbledore started considering her truly a part of the Montagues, she wouldn't make it past next week without falling pray to everything she was faking.

"Oh, sure, sure," he smiled and sipped his tea. It was the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever done, and Hermione downed her tea in hopes to not call him on it. Obviously, he was up to something, and she'd let it play out accordingly. She was losing sight of the reason she came up, anyway. She'd already decided that she'd ask Abraxas about his father's feelings toward the Montague family, so she moved on to her next line of worry: Tom.

"Sir, forgive me if I'm stepping over boundaries, but I have to admit that I'm shocked at the way you handled everything this morning. Calling Lord Malfoy and myself here, and allowing Tom as well. Shouldn't it have been just you and I?"

"Yes, well, as it is, I've found Septimus to be quite helpful in terms of determining how to best handle your reappearance. He is from a well-to-do Pureblood family; he will know the customs and what's appropriate better than I would. Plus, you've already attached yourself to the Malfoy family, I've simply built off of that relationship. As for Tom, well, it was evident he was going nowhere. You two are attached at the hip."

"That's incredibly untrue," she said quickly, unable to help the flush covering her face.

"You're both very sweet on each other, Hermione, whether you'd like to admit it or not. There is nothing wrong with it, dear; it makes your betrayal all the more sweeter, if you ask me. And, having him focused on your keeps him from killing fellow students or corrupting his housemates."

She didn't bother correct him, or even find value in his words. It wasn't sweeter that she was growing on him, and visa versa. Tt was dangerous. Really, she couldn't make it any clearer for him. "But, you agreed with him, Professor," she said instead. "You got along and even stood behind him."

"Should I have belittled him instead? Forgive me, but I may have done that the first time around, and it could be the reason you're here now."

"So you believe you're future theories to be wrong?"

He paused. "I really don't know, my child. I can only hope that what I'm doing now is enough. That everything will turn out the way it should in the end."

"We didn't really get anywhere with the plan," she replied, hoping things would start to make sense for her. So far, she was feeling as though she'd been better off out on the bridge.

"I didn't think you were paying too much attention," he smiled. "During the meeting, you know that we decided to push you forward a bit, and give Gellert a reason to be after you. After you all left, Septimus returned, and we decided to go ahead with Tom's plan. We're going to locate one of his more meaningful followers, or a son of one, and you're going to do what you seem to do so well."

"Why don't we do nothing?"

"Pardon?"

Hermione shrugged, "I don't want to make myself available to someone else. I know I'm just a pawn here, but I really don't care to be continuously passed around."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Hermione."

She ignored him, keeping her voice calm and careful. "Stop tampering with the wards, let them go off and attract the attention of the Board, they'll ask questions…and I'm willing to kiss-up to whoever I have to keep the fact that I'm a Montague secret, in exchange for protection.

"Tom pointed out that if they knew, they'd up security. They wouldn't risk losing old blood, Dumbledore. If we play our cards right, it could be someone who is also a part of the Ministry who we tell, which is a risk I'm willing to take if it means I'm safe enough to do what I came to do."

He looked at her for a long time and then nodded, "I'll talk it over with Septimus."

She nodded, swallowing the hollowness in her throat. Instead of asking why he was truly so buddy-buddy with the man, she gave him a small smile and continued on with her plan. She felt it was stronger than the crap they'd thought of, and laughed quietly at seeing the trio of men sitting around discussing her in private. "Just think: ignoring him will piss him off. More so than killing some random boy. He'll get reckless and careless, and you'll be able to kill him."

"I'll be able to kill him?" Dumbledore asked so quietly that Hermione wanted to hit herself for the mistake. It wasn't worth lying about, and she leaned forward to prepare them both fresh cups of tea. Deciding it was best to be gentle, she passed him his cup and a small plate of lemon cookies.

"I think you've known for a long time that you're going to be the one, Albus," she said familiarly, finishing preparing her cup and looking up at him. "One day you'll realize it, that you're more powerful and qualified than anyone else, and I'm going to be very honest in telling you that I'm not envious of you're situation."

They sat in a long silence, drinking tea and considering their situations. She was suddenly grateful for the awkwardness that had initiated her visit, though she couldn't really point out why. The heaviness of both of their situations was intense.

"I wouldn't be able to kill him," Hermione finally admitted, making it the most honest statement since her arrival. She looked at Dumbledore slowly, an emptiness brimming within her. It was the beginning and the end of everything.

.

.

.

Hermione pulled her thin, Beauxbatons cloak over her shoulders just as a knock sounded against her door. Knowing it wasn't Tom, who would just waltz in without any consideration, she peeked out to find Alphard and Abraxas standing on the other side. Instead of greeting them readily, she gave them both a very secret smile, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, it's always so lovely to find such 'andsome wizards on your doorstep."

Alphard had the decency to color at her words, obviously embarrassed, and Hermione resisted the urge to hug him. The rest of Slytherin could learn something from him, if she were being honest. Modesty was a great tool, after all. "Not as lovely as you," he said, lifting her hand to his lips.

"Oh, come off it, Alphie," Abraxas wrapped one arm over the younger wizard's shoulder and rubbed his knuckles into his curls, causing the witch to laugh happily. "He's in love with you, I'm afraid. " the blonde explained as he let him go.

Both adjusted their masks and righted their attire, which gave her the opportunity to observe them. The Black was dressed, very subtly, as Zorro, which caused her to like him even more than she had before, and Malfoy wore an all-white suit with a light cloak over his shoulders. His mask seemed to be made of glass, and she couldn't help but stare a little longer at him as Alphard produced something from his robes.

"We brought you something," the brunette explained as he produced a small box. "Riddle mentioned you were wearing white and blue, and we saw this mask in High Diagon and well," he shrugged, and Hermione was again struck by how sweet he was. It almost hurt.

"You're making us sound weak, Alphie," Abraxas shoved him and took the gift away. "We're Knights." He righted himself and squared his shoulders, "Here's to being grateful that you fell into our pit."

"And you're making fun of me?"

She smiled her thanks before they could start bantering, clutching the flat box to her chest as she hugged each of them. "Oh, merci, mes amis." It was a sweet thought, and although strange to be coming from the both of them, she was rather grateful. She wasn't sure where Draco had gotten the masks he'd given her, and at the risk of being seen in something the Malfoy's currently own, it was smart to wear whatever she'd been given. "_Z_is is so sweet, I cannot believe you all are so kind to me," she continued to smile as she moved over to her desk and pulled the ribbon carefully. Opening the box, she discovered an incredibly beautiful mask. It was almost too amazing to lift to her face, and she stared at it with her hand over her chest for longer than she should have.

"It's a Blue Jay mask," Burke's voice suddenly sounded, absolutely ruining the moment. "You're going to look so beautiful beside our Lord tonight, Lady Granger. Please, allow me to fasten it," he moved into her room before anyone could stop him, and because neither Alphard nor Abraxas knew the true extent of their dislike for each other, neither stopped him.

"I think he's the one who's actually in love with her," Alphard mumbled as he watched the Knight lift the mask and weave it into her hair to hold.

Hermione stood perfectly still, both upset and appreciative that he hadn't used his magic to fasten it, because she didn't exactly appreciate him touching her hair either. As he finished, she turned to study herself in the mirror, shocked by how much the golden beck, which sloped prettily over her nose, caused the brown of her eyes to stand out. The shades of blue around her eyes brought out the coloring of her cloak and the makeup she'd used, and she couldn't help but admit that she did look incredibly lovely –far better than she would have looked if she'd worn the white and silver lace mask she'd planned on.

Burke filled the space behind her with a quiet elegance, a handsome smile on his face as he watched her reflection. He took the time to put on his own mask, which seemed to be made out of metal and covered the majority of his face, slopping from just below his nose to the corners of his jaw at an angle. His blonde hair spilled over the top and around his face, and Hermione found herself frozen in shock. He looked so much like a Death Eater that she was sure this is what started the trend of wearing masks, or at least the design of them.

"We look marvelous, don't we, my sweet?" He asked quietly, a smirk falling over his lips.

She smoothed her hands over her hair, which she'd combed into a large bun for the evening, in attempt to ignore him. Fortunately, Tom stepped into the room and frowned at his follower until he moved away from her. Producing a bottle of Fire Whiskey from his suit pocket, Hermione watched as he conjured five shot glasses and poured them each a glass. Deciding it'd be more appropriate if she sat down, she moved to the bench at the foot of her bad and laced her ankles, smiling in thanks as he passed her one.

"To a fun night," the Head Boy announced night, and they all repeated the chant –the witch opting to say it in French- before downing the liquid. "One more," he spoke relatively cheerfully, topping his Knights off before moving over to her.

The way he stood blocked them from view, and she smiled seductively at him from behind her mask, her position allowing her to see his confident smirk from under the muzzle of his as he filled hers to the brim. She held it away from her, worried about spilling it on the satin of her gown.

"To you, my dear," he said as he boys laughed happily and clinked their glasses behind him. The pair kept their eyes locked as they knocked back the second drinks, and she felt far surer of herself than usual. Her smile grew, and his eyes seemed to brighten as it did. "I'll see you boys in the Great Hall," he said, without room for question, and the sound of the door clicking shut filled the air. Tom vanished the glass, and bowed grandly before kissing her hand.

"I didn't think you could be more beautiful," he said lowly, pulling her up, and Hermione felt her insides fall apart. It was the most tender thing he'd ever said to her.

Very forcefully, it hit her that things were going in the wrong direction, even if she were both faking it, and that she needed to pull away now. But, it felt so nice to know this secret part of him. So nice that just by thinking about it drew a blush to her face.

"You look quite nice as well, Monsieur," she told him, lifting her free hand to touch his curls. The witch watched as he blinked slowly at the action, which was one she'd never made, before lifting a hand to grasp her own as she studied his mask. It was made from deep, black wood, with well-defined ears and the upper part of a muzzle, complete with real teeth. With gold lined eyes and ears, the intricacy and quality made it as stunning as it was scary, especially when he pulled her back toward the mirror and spun her around to face it again. It was as though he'd truly shed his scales for the evening.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, inhaling the scent of her skin before pulling away slightly to comfortably rest his jaw on the curve of her neck. The action hid his mouth from view, highlighting just how dark his eyes were as they watched each other. She left herself relax in his hold, and reveled in how easy it was. "We should just be Tom and Mimi, don't you think?" He asked, lips brushing her skin. She felt his smirk as she nodded, and he continued as if being this close was actually normal for them. It'd grown increasingly so during the last week, but not to the point where either should be incredibly comfortable–though, she rarely saw him uncomfortable with anything he decided to do.

"You smell like lavender," he commented, and she watched as he closed his eyes.

"I was feeling nervous," she admitted.

He hummed in response. "No reason to be. You're the most important witch in the castle." His words were casual and warm against her skin, but she knew he understood. It was everything, still pressing upon her like stones, and for as much as Dumbledore attempted and Abraxas tried, it was only Tom that seemed to understand.

Before she could reply, he whispered, "It's my favorite scent."

His eyes were still closed, face covered beyond recognition, but she didn't need any of that to get it. He was opening up, trusting her, and it didn't matter whether it was done consciously or not. Once was all it took to start something. The success was less satisfying than it would have been a month ago, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it in other ways. Her heart pounded dangerously in her chest as she let her fingers lace with his on her hip.

"The Knights will want to dance with you. If it's all right with you, it's all right with me. It'll give me the chance to mingle with the Professors and students. I won't be too far away."

"I can play nice," she told him, and felt another smirk against her skin.

"We should get going, my dear." He opened his eyes and left a kiss against the curve of her jaw before pulling away. Back in his sights, she felt like prey, and realized that he got his wish of them matching. It was subtle, but at the end of the day he was a wolf and she was bird, and it spoke volumes about their true relationship.

"If you insist," she told him, accepting his offered arm on the way out of the room. "Is your suit blue?"

"Would you decide to go with Burke if I said yes?" He asked, looking very amused and humored by himself.

She resisted laughing at his light-hearted behavior, curious as to how long it would last. "No. I was just wondering."

"It's called midnight, ma Cherie, and I would think a French lady would know about current fashions," he said seriously, looking at her as though it were genuinely something she should be aware of. Unable to resist, she began to laugh, and did so all the way to the Great Hall.

A very shocked McGonagall stood on outside to doors, glancing between the laughing witch and her obviously amused wizard with confusion and awe. Beside her stood Camdus Potter, who looked greatly like his grandson, but also a lot like the Malfoys: incredibly entitled. It forced Hermione to remember that the Potter's had once been a pureblood family, and an important one at that. He gave her a suggestive smile that caused her to frown, drawing closer to Tom, before smiling beautifully at the other witch.

"Bonsoir, Minerva!" She spoke happily, feeling Tom tense slightly as she leaned in to kiss at the Gryffindor's checks.

"Hello, Mimi. You look lovely."

Under her mask, the Slytherin witch blushed at McGonagall's appraisal. It was a step above the look she'd given her while observing her cloak from a few nights ago, and it felt like a victory. More so, feeling and seeing the shock of both of their wizards was incredibly satisfying. It made her want to very childishly shout 'girl's rule and boys drool,' as she hadn't seen too many Slytherin and Gryffindor witches publically acknowledge each other so familiarly. As far as she was concerned, it should have signified the dawn of a new era.

"Oh, merci, my dear! You're looking so beautiful, as well. Way to give a good smashing to 'ouse rivalry," she pounded her fist to her palm for emphasis. "Green is truly your color," she finished honestly. It was the truth, and McGonagall did look beautiful in her sweetheart gown, all forest green and creamy white. Her mask looked like poison ivy, and Potter's looked as though he were a vulture, dressed in all black as he fitted his extravagant mask into his face. Hermione was a bit upset she and Tom hadn't thought of such great looks, but swallowed it down. Everyone likely had amazing masks and attire, and it'd be pointless. She'd be the only one with the well-known shade of Beauxbatons blue, and there with Tom, which was satisfying enough.

She was incredibly sure that he wouldn't have had a date at all if she hadn't been there.

"We're late," the Head Boy finally announced, motioning for McGonagall and Potter to lead the walk in. Earlier, he'd explained that while they wouldn't be announced, they were required to arrive together timely.

They stepped arms length away from each other just before he led her in, hand in hand. As they came to a stop, he bowed grandly and lifted just as confidently, stepping closer as he took her hand. The smirk was clear in his eyes as he looked down at her. In the silence, he whispered, "We have to dance now, and the professors will join in to help open the night. Then, we'll greet the Board of Governors personally and sit to eat with some of the Knights."

"What if I can't dance?" She questioned with a small smile.

He looked slightly amused at her horrible attempt to lighten the mood –he was obviously curious as to how she'd grown so chummy with the Head Girl-, and the students clapped just before the music began. It was a slow, haunting melody that she was sure they'd gotten help with. "It's a slow waltz, my dear," he continued.

Fortunately, she'd left the 90s as a professional in any style the Wizarding world could throw at her, and they'd learned a few of the "Classics," in Home Economics.

As he twirled her around the dance floor, Hermione lost sight of anything important. Even her tasks seemed silly and irrelevant in his arms, so close to his body. By the end, her head was pounding from both the turns and the feelings clouding her thoughts, but she greeted the governors as expected, schmoozing Septimus Malfoy and his wife while allowing herself to be incredibly happy that she wasn't required to lift her mask yet. Although her classmates knew who she was, as well as the professors, none of the extra guests had a clue.

As she ate dinner, she thought about the unveiling at the end of the fifth dance, which would signify the end of formalities and allow the students a bit more freedom (though she doubted it meant anything more risqué than the foxtrot). So far, she'd been told that she looked greatly like the Montague's, and although no one who was unaware of her status had yet to figure it out, she couldn't be sure that it would stay that way. If anyone on the Board happened to be a supporter of Grindelwald, they would _know_, even if they hadn't been informed about what he was in England looking for. They would see her in person and simply know. Suddenly, agreeing to join Tom didn't seem like such a nice idea at all, and there was very little she could do about it.

Wrapping her arm behind his waist, she tucked her hand into his and decided not to worry about it, silently reveling in the fact that he subtly moved closer to her as he gripped her hand in his. It was an odd realization, but her finding solace in him was coming more frequently and easily than she'd ever imagined, and her aversion to it was practically nonexistent.

Deciding not linger on the thought, like she did every time something similar filled her mind, she leaned toward him and pressed her mouth into the back of his shoulder. "I want to dance," she whispered, interrupting his conversation with Burke. The other wizard expressed his displeasure in her cutting in with a sharp look, while her's turned very slightly toward her. Due to her position, she could see him wet his lips and smirk handsomely, which was incredibly endearing. She lifted her free hand and rubbed it along his spine, smiling when he didn't tense or pull away from her attentions, and murmured, "S'il vous plaît?"

The table had discreetly taken two more shots after sitting down, and she would have been lying if she told anyone she wasn't feeling a bit buzzed. The witch's confidence seemed to skyrocket, and she lifted her chin to place a kiss against the back of his neck.

"Someone's feeling fresh," Greengrass commented, earning a disgusted look from Abraxas, and a frown from his Lord.

"That's enough," he said, standing to turning without letting her hand go. Smirking at her again, he pulled her up and lifted a hand to run over her collarbone. "Perhaps you should check on your own witch, or sister, for that matter. I do believe she's beneath the Ravenclaw seeker's table."

Hermione allowed him to pull her away from the table, smiling all the way, and danced respectably with her wizard before Abraxas cut in. Nodding her consent, she blushed under her mask as he pressed a kiss to her hair before moving away. The blonde raised his eye brows before bowing, "Something you'd like to share, Little M?"

Deciding she liked the nickname better than any he'd used before, she allowed him to lead around the floor. "Oh, non. You know, it's 'armless."

"It's armless?" He grinned, and she found herself laughing as well. "He seems serious, Mimi," he said stoically. "I trust you; but he's, well, a like a stray spell, you know? I never expected all this."

"I think he just wants you all to know that 'e i_z_ serious. Don't worry, Abraxas. I know he sees me as a possession. It's alright, for right now."

"You realize how that sounds?"

"Would _ee_t be different with anyone else?" She looked up at him and he sighed. "I really like him, when he isn't been big, bad Riddle."

"When the hell is that?" He asked genuinely. She wondered what he thought Tom was like when it was just the two of them, and decided she'd never imagine that he was the way he was. It was reassuring that he wanted her enough to not wear all of his armor when it came down to it.

"You'd be surprised."

.

.

Tom walked away from Abraxas and Granger cautiously, eyes connecting with Septimus' before nodding toward the Professor's entrance. He was sure that his witch was in good hands, he simply wasn't too happy to be leaving her. It wasn't something he wanted to think too much about, so he didn't. Too much alcohol had already gone to his head, ruining his plan to always be incredibly sober with her.

Propping himself against the wall, he waited for the blonde's emergence before sighing dramatically. "Have you heard their new plan?"

"Was it Dumbledore's?" Septimus asked, motioning for the younger wizard to follow him. After cutting a few passages, they ended up on a terrace, and he offered a cigar before lighting one for himself.

The Head Boy tucked his hands into his pockets, "No. She has a point, I just…want her to be safe."

"She's the last Montague, young Riddle, we all want a lot of things for her."

He looked over at the Malfoy, "I know that you don't approve of my starting a relationship with her. Not only is it not proper, but I'm sure there are many Purebloods who are interested in her, without even knowing what we do.

"But I do feel deeply for the witch. She's like fresh air," he said honestly, looking over the edge of the castle at the ocean.

"I only want what's best for her. I don't care about the blood of the wizard that she marries, only his magical ability. You're young, so full of potential, and I know that you are heir to our old House," Septimus grinned. "I do believe you are more than qualified, despite what old Dumbledore thinks."

"Charms and intelligence mean little to him if you're not of his house. Are you all actually friends?"

"I prefer him to Dippet, for what it's worth. But, friends? No. I do believe he wishes I never showed interest in Mimi. But, how could I not?"

Tom hummed in response, waiting for the older wizard to finish his cigar. "I do think Grindelwald will be upset about her ignoring him. It's smart."

"Until she steps out alone."

"She won't. Abraxas barely lets her out of his sight these days. I'm surprised he's not living outside her rooms."

"I hear you keep that hall pretty well protected."

He ran his tongue over his teeth. Septimus was right in saying that. The wards had been tight when he thought he'd be alone on the hall, but upon finding out who his neighbor was, he'd taken a few extra measures, issuing three extra sets to the original. The heaviest two rested at the foot of the steps and a few feet from her door. However, due to the castle's natural charms and protections, he couldn't completely keep students from accessing her, especially if the older wards deemed them nonthreatening. "Not as well as I'd like to," Tom admitted, noticing the puffs of air that made itself visible as he spoke. The realization made him realize that he was cold, and he suddenly regretted letting the older wizard take him out.

Easily, he cast a warming spell. "What do you know about the Burkes?"

"Slimy lot," Septimus shrugged.

"Runs in their veins, I reckon."

"He wants to marry her. His uncle mentioned it the other day. Said that the Monday after term, the boy seemed to be smitten."

Tom frowned, and stored the information away. "I should probably get back to my witch."

"Have a good evening, young Riddle. Finish term strong."

He nodded, "Thank you, Lord Malfoy. I'll talk with you soon."

Slipping back inside, he made his way to the boy's lavatory and locked himself in a stall. It wasn't the most mature thing he'd ever done, but he needed to process the information he'd been given before heading back to the ball. He couldn't say he was shocked to learn of Burke's interest, but he could safely say that he wasn't impressed. The Monday after term meant that Burke had seen the witch sit before him, and torture his brethren because his Lord willed it. Tom understood having a crush on her, it was a natural thing to like the person out of your league, but to go so far as to ask for her hand?

He sighed and kicked at the wall just as the doors opened. The sound of Abbott and Orion joking around could be heard, and he stilled, placing a hand on the lock to announce his presence.

"I can't believe you made such a mess, Abbott. Way to be discrete."

"Just help me get it off, Orion," came testily. After a few minutes of water running and magic permeating the air, Abbott pathetically spoke up, "Granger is looking beautiful tonight, though. Do you think she'd dance with me?"

"I don't know. Ask her, she'll probably pity you enough to say yes."

"I don't see you doing it, O. What happened to sharing is caring, and all that jazz? Your Lord not feeling it anymore?" Abbott asked over the running water.

Tom's eyebrows lifted beneath his mask, shocked at the usually very submissive wizard's choice in words. It was something he'd have to deal with.

Orion laughed harshly, "It seems our Lord is rather fond of this one, he doesn't even care to join me with our ladies, anymore. I'm sure his interest will die down soon enough, specially when he see's what Burke and I have planned for his birthday. Anyway, it's not like he can marry her, no matter how cozy they get. I've already asked my father to secure her hand."

"You think you'll get it over the Malfoy's?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Black asked, obviously secure in his status.

"They both seem pretty fond of her, is all. And Dumbledore likes Septimus a whole lot," the lesser wizard said strangely, almost as though he were fishing.

"I'm sure she knows who she'll go farther with," Orion boasted. "She's very comfortable with myself, she has been since the first day."

"Black, forgive me, but what if our Lord is interested in her hand?"

The silence was heavy as he considered the question. "He wouldn't. Tom isn't interested in things like that. He's just having fun right now."

The water shut off.

"Yeah, but what if he wants her? What would you do then? Would you duel him for her?"

Orion sighed, footsteps echoing off the floor. "There is more to Lady Granger than we're ever going to know, Abbott, not as mere Knights. But, if I were her husband? I'm sure that I would be satisfied with what I learn. I'm sure that she would be worth it."

"Worth what?"

"What do you think, man? Do I need to fucking spell it out?" His voice was farther away now, as though they were near the door.

"Everything, then? Don't you think our Lord feels the same?"

The sound of Orion jacking the other wizard up against the wall could be heard. "Listen, Abbott, I already fucking told you. She's going to be mine; I don't care what I have to do to make that happen. And this doesn't go any further than right here, do you hear me? I will kill you this gets out."

The doors sounded as they shuffled out, and Tom continued to stand in the stall. He wasn't upset, not even furious, about the fact that his Knight was trying to take what was his. Instead, he felt a very strange emptiness all over his body. The Blacks, and even the Malfoys, were both wealthy, more powerful Wizarding families that could offer Granger more then he ever could. He relied heavily on them not only for his own success, but her protection as well. Not to mention, she was rather fond of all of them. If they were to bid for her hand…well, the dark wizard wasn't sure if Dumbledore would stand by his promise to allow his goddaughter to make her own decisions, or force her to marry the family that would offer her the most.

It was disappointing, and he couldn't really think of a way to remedy the situation.

Swallowing a few times, he tugged out the neck of his suit and pulled his mask off. Self-doubt wasn't a normal feeling for him –not that anything past amusement and disappointment was something he experienced regularly-, and he wasn't sure what his next move was. Hearing that Black didn't believe his interest to be genuine or long lasting made Granger free range for anyone who thought himself worthy of her, and there was little more he could do to show that he meant it. He'd already done so much out of character in the hopes of convincing both the witch and his Knights of his transparency and commitment. All that was left…he took a deep breath and put his mask back on before stepping out of the stall and toward the mirrors to readjust himself.

The walk back to the Great Hall left him feeling fuller by the moment. There was nothing wrong with what he was going to do. He'd already decided that after years of believing there was no one for him, she was it. She walked in exactly when he needed someone to elevate himself in a way that he'd never be able to do with mere followers, and he would kill her with his bare hands before he let go. There would never be any action too great or undermining for him to complete. Black had been right in saying that there was more to her, and that she was worth everything.

"May I cut in?" He asked as he reached her on the dance floor, barely looking at the wizard she was dancing with. She smiled prettily, reaching for him instantly, and he found himself topping off. The song was relatively upbeat, but he found rhythm in one instrument and moved them slowly around the dance floor, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I think I'm a little drunk," she said dreamily, and he chuckled as she buried her head into his chest. "But I'm always 'appy with you, Tom Riddle."

"That's a first for me, I suppose," he told her with a smirk, resting his chin on her head.

"Oh, I'm sure," the smile was clear in her voice, and he looked around to see that people were watching them curiously. The song ended, and he pulled away before bowing grandly. "One more. _Z_is is the unveiling song, non?"

"I believe so," Tom said, offering his hand again. The song picked up and they proceeded with an up-tempo Wizarding waltz. Their conversation ceased as they twirled around, students filling the space around them as they prepared for the unveiling, and he was grateful they neither of them were so drunk that they were embarrassing themselves.

As the song ended, he again pulled away and bowed, smirking as she curtsied appropriately. Righting himself, he realized how strange it was that this was the same girl he was shoving into walls and threatening at the start of term. For as many allowances as he'd made to sway her, Granger had made just as many to soften herself and accept both he and his Knights into her life as though she'd ben doing to for years. It was admirable, and he found himself rather proud of the witch in front of him.

Slowly, Tom pulled his mask off, vanishing it to his room in one fluid motion. She lifted her own carefully, conscious of her hair and seemingly the people around them. It was as though she were nervous about someone recognizing her, and he realized that with so many older wizards being a part of the Board, she was risking a lot being face to face with them. However, she didn't shy away from pulling it off, and vanishing it away as well.

She smiled prettily at him, "Surprise," she laughed, and he found himself no longer weary of what he was going to do.

Lifting his hand to her face, he smirked, "Surprise, indeed, little witch," he whispered before leaning in and kissing her.

Swallowing her gasp, he waited a moment before moving against her mouth, his other hand coming to rest on her hip as she melted against him. It was more than inappropriate, but he ran his tongue along her lower lip for entrance and felt everything fall into place as she allowed it. Over the happy chatter and clapping of students celebrating the holiday, a few wolf-whistled sounded from people he knew were his Knights, and she pulled away with a big smile and an appealing blush on her cheeks, which were shimmering with glitter from her mask.

Without really thinking about it, he leaned in and pecked her lips again. It was the easiest thing he'd ever done, and in a very odd moment he wondered why he'd taken so long to do it. However, it passed quickly, and a feeling of satisfaction fell over him. The entire school had been able to glimpse an intimate moment between them, and would no longer question what their relationship was based off of and whether it was real or rumored.

"Un plus," she said, and Tom chuckled as the music began to play. The bands had swapped out, and the music changed from typical ballroom music to more upbeat, fun pieces that allowed the students more freedom, efficiently forcing all the stuffy Board members and professors from the dance floor. The wizard was interested in leaving now too, but decided that one more turn around wouldn't harm his image.

Leaning in one more time, he kissed her mouth quickly and pressed his lips to her forehead. Granger was officially his, and there was very little anyone could do to change that. _If _she was forced to marry someone else, there would never be a moment that Black or fucking Burke wouldn't be thinking about this, and they would still be within his hold as Knights, which meant that she would still be near enough to remain-

"I don't want to dance anymore," she said, pulling him away from his thoughts. "I'm ready to just go," she was stepping closer to him, eyes focused elsewhere, and he looked around to determine what had fixated her. Hesitantly, her arm wrapped around his lower torso, and he felt her lean into habitually. It was a small victory, showing that she'd begun to look to him for support, but he wasn't able to fully celebrate the moment.

There was an unfamiliar wizard watching them from the Head's table, seemingly speaking with Madam Hausready, whose gaze was also focused between the pair. "Maybe she's unhappy that one of her students is behaving so inappropriately. Really, Miss Granger, publically snogging young men?" He teased, and she smiled very thinly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her out of sight.

It was a slow and fuzzy memory, but he recalled hearing that the Home Economics professor had been born in Germany, with many a brother that had attended Durmstrang. Frustrated with himself for not remembering sooner, Tom took one glance over his shoulder to get a better look at the stranger, and walked his witch out of the Ball. The Head Girl would likely be upset with him for leaving, but there were more important matters, and both Dumbledore and Dippet would understand.

"I know _z_at man," she said lowly, as though she was genuinely shocked to have seen him.

He looked down at her as they walked down the steps, continuing to keep her close to his body. "As a Montague? Or a Granger?"

"Granger," she whispered, and there was an unexplainable terror in her voice. "Sort of. He thought I was dead. What i_z_ he doing in England? Oh gods, Monsieur. I need to go," she began to pull away from him, and the wizard felt as though a rope were tightening around his neck at the thought of her seeking refuge with someone else. "Seigneur Malfoy is still here, I can-"

Tom stopped walking and turned to the witch, gripping her shoulders to keep her in place. "What have I been telling you, Mimi?" He asked, searching her eyes slowly. Carefully, he lifted one hand to her face, lacing his fingers through the hair at her nape and caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I understand your need to protect yourself, to not want to die, more than you'd think. I can help you. I even want the same things for you as I want for myself, okay? I just need you to trust that I can do that."

She watched him like she always did: as though she didn't believe him, like she was waiting for him to realize something and change his mind. Only this time, Tom decided to not let it bother him. He'd accepted that despite having a relatively phenomenal support system, she was an orphan that relied heavily on herself as well. The surface most likely hadn't even been scratched in terms of what she was capable of, and he didn't want to risk losing someone so valuable.

As tears swelled in her eyes, he felt a mild satisfaction over her continuing to let him in. Remembering that he'd already decided to do whatever necessary, he thumbed away the few that spilled over and leaned in to kiss her head. As she hugged him, he inhaled sharply, hesitating before wrapping an arm around her shoulders again.

"I don't understand why you're so good to me," she mumbled into his suit, and he sighed inwardly. "I do, but I don't. _Z_ere i_z_ nothing in it for you."

"Power," he told her, seeing no reason to lie. She knew more about him than the simple truth of the two of them.

She made a sound somewhere between and sigh and a laugh, squeezing tight before letting go and starting down the steps to the Dungeon. "Money, too," she said lightly, obviously deep in thought.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he wondered if she'd meant to admit access to the Montague vaults. Not that it mattered; he'd come into what was left of the Gaunt fortune when he'd turned 17, and he'd get the Riddle wealth in a few months. Despite having been a ward of the country, he wasn't hurting for very much. Not with two separate residences, and a substantial amount of young, Pureblood Lords under his thumb.

However, it wasn't something she needed to know completely just yet, and he instead smirked at her confidently. "Save it for a rainy day, my dear. I'm just interested in power for now." The reached their House and started up the staircase to their rooms before the wizard paused on the steps. Tilting his head, he looked over his shoulder, "Did you let Mashki out for the evening?"

Watching as she attempted to move her way through the wards for whatever he was feeling, he was impressed to find that she could do so easily. A pout of a frown formed on her lips, "No. 'e was in the bathroom when we left."

He let his wand fall from where it was secured in his sleeve discreetly, reaching his free hand behind him for her own. She accepted it quickly and they continued up the steps, toward her room. Before they made it, she stopped in front of his.

"Tom," she breathed, looking at the placard on his door. Where his first name was usually engraved laid his initials, as bold and proud as day in their standing.

He let go of her hand and moved down the hall to find her placard changed as well, the quartet of Ms smudged in blood. "You're fucking kidding," he mumbled, using his magic to push her door open. The box she'd been sent from Grindelwald laid open on the floor, contents emptied onto the fur carpets. It was photographs of the Montague family and staff being murdered, and even the young Dark wizard had to frown at the distaste. Even more unfortunate, the Siamese laid dead on her bench, his neck slit open and blood staining the fabric.

"What's wrong?" He heard her ask, and he held up a hand for her to remain where she was.

"Go in the sitting room and summon your Uncle."

"Tom," Granger whispered, obviously nervous, and he tore his eyes away from the scene before him long enough to look at her briefly. However, the rather innocent expression on her face caused anger to bubble within him, and he kicked the wall harshly, cussing loudly in frustration. Whoever had gotten past the wards had been smart enough to make themselves seem as though they were simply looking for the pair, and trusted enough to even make it past the wards on the steps. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it meant that his Knights were the only people who could have accessed the rooms, and both Abbott and Orion were high on the list of suspects.

Walking over to her, he gave a weak smirk and smoothed her hair down thoughtlessly. "I'd rather you didn't look at your room right now, my dear," he said, steering her down the few steps and into the sitting room.

"Was it really _z_at bad?"

He sighed and forced her to sit on the couch. Slowly, everything changed around them, morphing from the comfortable living room into the Morning room that she'd first walked into a month earlier. "We can always get a new kitten, right? You two hadn't bonded too greatly."

She leaned away from him, eyes widening at the realization of what he was saying. He hummed thoughtfully, lifting a chain over his head and slipping it over hers. Carefully, he made sure they she was holding the pendant properly. "I'll call your Uncle, okay? You handle that."

"'andle what?" She asked as he turned to the fireplace, and Tom cursed inwardly at his mistake. The witch had no idea that he'd marked his Knights, and could summon them via the Slytherin emblem, but she'd know now. Perhaps not all of it, but she was intelligent enough to get the gist.

He turned his head over his shoulder, but didn't look at her. Confidently smirking, the wizard spoke lowly, "Summon the Knights to the Room of Requirement in half and hours time, my dear. I do think its time for them to properly meet their Lady."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait! (And for the tiny cliffhanger as well as Tom's slip into OCCness. I promise it won't be very long-lived.) I've been very preoccupied with finals and personal issues, so I have to admit that I wasn't feeling it this week (hence the uber original chapter title). I'm super sorry if it's incredibly obvious that I just wasn't into it, and I do hope it was at least semi-enjoyable. The next few updates will be a little spotty because I'm away for the holiday, but I'll do my best to post at least once a week still.

As always, a big thank you to all of my reviewers! I'm happy that you all enjoyed the previous update, because I was _really _nervous you guys would finally rebel on me and hate everything. It truly means a lot to read that you're all enjoying things so far and reading your thoughts/guesses on whats going on is really the best (though I have to admit it's a bit nerve-wrecking as well).

ImACountryGirlAtHeart: I'm really happy you peeped that ^-^ Originally I was going to make the box into a really big deal, and then the ending of this chapter happened and there wasn't much I could do to change it. (:

Shiroru-tan: Hopefully Tom with seem little darker to you as the story progresses. I know that he was bad as a child, but I never pictured him as insane as he is as an adult. I think him volunteering to kill a man for her is pretty twisted! But, rest assured that I plan to take him a little further into the darkness soon. Thank you (:

Obey the Muse: I always love reading your reviews bc I know you're going to tell me like it is. Anyway, thank you! I've never even read a spy novel but I'm going to take it thats a good thing? I always take everything pointless that she does (because trust me, there's A LOT) out because it'd just be too long and we'd get no where! You should really see how much scrap I have at the end of every chapter.  
I'm really happy you said that because I really wanted to make it obvious that he _knows_ he has room to grow without flat out saying it! (Because he can know it, but would he really admit failure or short comings? Totally not. Not to himself. He has too much pride.)  
Hermione isn't that short! (Idk, stories where she's like 5'4'' leave me very confused.) I picture her around 5'8'', so there is a big gap between she and Septimus, but between the boys...well, not too much. I think it's an attractive difference. Anyhow, we'll just have to wait to see about him... (;

AvalonTheLadyKiller: I LOVE that you said that because that's exactly how I felt about it. Like, nothing happened. Every time I attempted to fit something in, I realized explaining it would be uncomfortable. However, hopefully everything is cleared up for you now.  
I'm with you on the character growth for her. The visit to the Malfoy's is going to be a HUGE step (that I'm a little nervous to take, tbh), and I'm going to do my best to make it a little more obvious in weekly posts. I think she's come a long way since the beginning, but I'm also feeling as though it's not enough. Cheers to making it better.

SuperPotterWhoLockFan: Thank you for your sweet words! Hopefully the little bit with Alphard was enough this chapter ^-^

And of course a big hello and thank you to all of my followers/favoriters. You guys are awesome for coming round every week ^-^


	15. The Masked Man, Part Two

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I'm not JK Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 13, continued**

Dumbledore frowned, and Hermione ran her fingers along the edges of the photographs now spread upon her desk. The mess had been cleaned up appropriately after proper authorities were alerted, and she'd forced them to leave duplicates of the photos, which she knew was morbid, but it wasn't something she wanted to un-see. Having them in her room, where Tom was constantly snooping, meant that he would be forced to see how gruesome being an all-power Dark Lord would grow to be, and she hoped it was sway him to be less lethal.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and she turned to find Septimus patting the couch beside him. Slowly, she moved over and settled in beside him, careful to keep her expression distant and eyes scared. It was tedious, but the secret looks she shared with Dumbledore told her that she was doing well, and she kept it up evenly. "I was going to leave this with Abraxas for you," the Malfoy said, producing a framed photo out of thin air and handing it over. "Hopefully it will clear your head of the other images," he continued lightly as she studied the picture.

She had to admit that she was constantly impressed by the Wizarding world. The quality of the image she was looking at was amazing, as though it was from the forties rather then one taken about sixteen years earlier. Watching as the preserved people smiled and waved to the camera, Hermione began to realize what she was looking at, and gasped in surprise.

To the left of the photo stood Septimus, younger and freer without his stuffy robes and proper Wizarding garb, with a little Abraxas in one arm as he held the hand of a little, curly haired wizard, who was waving a stick at the person behind the camera angrily. A second little boy, obviously the twin of the one armed with the stick, seemed to be walking toward the camera, displaying what appeared to be a shell proudly. Beside them stood a witch she recognized instantly, with long waves blowing in the wind as she coddled the little girl in her arms and pointed to the camera happily. It was Myrine, and she was every bit as beautiful as everyone had made her out to be. Although it was easy to see where they believed she favored the dead witch and the pretty toddler in her arms, Hermione knew rather surely that the little girl wasn't her. Her curls weren't wild enough to be, and it was incredibly reassuring to discover that her life wasn't a lie.

It was such an ordinary thing to witness, the young Lord Malfoy in what seemed to be well tailored Muggle trousers and a summer top, with just as simply dressed little boys. Even Myrine was in an appropriate garden dress, the babe in what seemed to be a little version of her mother's attire. They were even all barefoot, and she was suddenly hit with the memory of Tom mentioning that he was in love with her.

The way Septimus was looking at Myrine, who was still so lovely at twenty-some years his senior, was one of pure infatuation. That was who he was in love with, and Hermione was simply a vessel of his admiration –an extension of Myrine, so the speak, and a poor one at that.

"You even still have the little scar you got that day," Septimus said humoredly, his finger gingerly touching the pale sliver on the crease of her nose, and Hermione froze instantly, dropping the photo into her lap and looking at him with wide eyes. "A shell," he laughed.

"I jammed it into my face," she whispered, looking to Dumbledore to find that he was ignoring her by way of studying the photographs.

Septimus laughed, and she would have found comfort in him trying to sooth her if she hadn't suddenly become so damn scared for herself. At every moment, her life seemed to turn in another direction, and she was beginning to feel as though everything that had been told her was a lie. There was no way to know about her scar…and there was no way for anyone of this time to know about it unless they _knew._

Swallowing, she worked to get it out of the frame and studied it closer. The back read 'La Giamaica, con zio Septimus e poco Abraxas*,' in dulling ink. "Oncle Septimus," she said and could practically feel him relax beside her, as though he were waiting for her to realize that she knew him, and Abraxas. She really couldn't explain it, but tears swelled in her eyes. On top of having her cat die and seeing a family's butchering preserved, she was forced to feel more like she was truly a Montague. It made her almost want to give up and accept the legacy that seemed to be forcefully thrust upon her, but she knew it would only further the end of the identity she knew, understood, and fought to keep for sanity's sake.

Malfoy seemed to take her tears differently, and easily wrapped his arms around her, effectively ruining his robes. "I did hope it would make you feel better, Mimi."

"It i_z_ just so much, I don't know 'how to possess this all."

"Process," she heard Tom correct, and she pulled away from the blonde, rubbing fiercely at her face. He smirked kindly, if a little pitifully, at her before straightening his tie.

Septimus rose, "What happened?"

Dumbledore finally tore his eyes away from the photos, looking strangely at the witch before focusing on the Head Boy. Even the Headmaster, who'd been sitting quietly on a conjured chair near her desk, rose and turned to listen to the younger wizard. It was a strange sight, but he seemed to swell before them, becoming more important and praise worthy by the moment. It was intoxicating, him seeming as though he knew all of the answers, and Hermione opted to observe the photo instead of watch him charm his way to the top of the food chain.

"I may have completely changed her cover story."

Hermione perked up as Dumbledore sighed loudly, hands coming to rest on his hips rather then moving to shake the boy. Septimus was frowning distastefully while the Headmaster appeared nervous.

Having been the one to discover her room, as well as have their wards broken into, he had to speak with the Ministry official himself. The fact that he lied to the man was both impressive and completely dimwitted. If they called to take her statement, or anyone else's in to room, their stories wouldn't match, and then what would happen? Hermione put the photo back in the frame and set it aside, deciding to focus on what he was saying.

"Well, out with it, boy," the Professor finally said, earning and dark look from his student.

"You've been mistaken for a Montague. To the best of my knowledge," he smirked, "I have no idea how you became associated with Dumbledore, though I assume it comes from your mother's side, a long dead Purebloods from France –the official mentioned the name Maigney, perhaps because he saw the door, and I didn't confirm or deny. But, I did tell him that you're Malfoy's illegitimate daughter."

"What?" Hermione asked, genuinely shocked by the new lie she'd be forced to live under.

"Indeed, Tom. How on earth did you come up with such a tale?" Dumbledore asked, sounding more curious than surprised. He seemed to _like _the lie, which upset Hermione to the core for a reason she couldn't quite determine.

"I did have an affair with the Maigney daughter during the end of my apprenticeship with the Lord Montague. She died about a year after I wedded Imogen," Septimus looked around, at the wizards first, before finally settling on the witch. For what it was worth, he seemed to be asking permission to further the lie, and she looked genuinely affronted. He smiled very timidly at her, as though she had room to argue; "It would explain being French, and everything else about you that is very un-Malfoy. The Maigney's had incredibly strong genes."

Hermione hummed. "I wonder why," she implied inbreeding, very unimpressed. "_Z_is is so silly. I've already had to give up my identity. I 'ave accepted who I am now. I can't continue to change because _ee_t fits you all's agenda. Call _z_e Ministry fellow back," she motioned to Tom and the door, ignoring his look of distaste at being ordered around. "I'll tell 'im the truth myself."

"Mimi," he said, stepping closer to where she sat. He pulled the chair from the desk and sat directly in front of her, so close that her knees pressed against the seat, his own legs opened around hers. It was such an odd way to sit, and the intimacy didn't pass her.

He was furthering the show. It was all still a game to him. And, damn it, he was winning. Something very small inside her felt betrayed, and she pushed it away as forcefully as possible. In whatever twisted way, he cared for her at least a little bit; he wouldn't have kissed her thoughtlessly or lied to a Ministry official if he didn't. They were both using each other, and it was something she had to remember always. They were using each other, and they wouldn't betray the trust that had built in the sea of deception.

Not yet, at least. It wouldn't be productive.

The wizard reached for her hand and very subtly lifted a privacy charm around them. She blinked, and leaned away from him very slightly at the display of magic, one that the rest of the room seemed to not recognize. Or, if they did, they were unaware of what had truly occurred.

Seeing that she recognized, his eyes filled with a strange proudness before he smirked, "It turns our words to whispers. We'll talk about that later, okay?" He licked his lips, running a hand through his curls; it was the first time she'd ever seen him do it, and she wondered what it meant. "The conversation was all 'to the best of my knowledge,' therefore it seems that you are the only one aware of the truth of the situation. They aren't going to question you, not about this, at least. Alright, my dear?"

She stared at him for a long time before nodding, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead in assurance. Both Dumbledore and Septimus could be heard clearing their throats as the Headmaster gasped at the action, and they decided to ignore them. Easily, she allowed herself to be comforted. In theory, it was the first time they'd really had to reflect together since the break in, and despite being improper, she knew his plans. She'd been woven into them, and he would continue to do what he had to in order to keep her there.

"I did what I had to do to protect your wishes. Don't go back on them now. I _will _protect you; you just have to let me. To trust me."

"D'accord," she whispered, and he smirked kindly, dropping the charm and standing in one fluid motion.

"Shall I gather Abraxas to inform him of his new sibling?" He asked confidently.

Dippet cleared his throat, effectively gaining everyone's attention. "If I may, he should remain ignorant for security's sake, should he not? If it comes out, let it be a shock to him."

The rest of the room stared at him, and Hermione resisted sighing at his thoughtlessness. If the remaining Malfoy's weren't made aware of the situation, it would be a shit show, especially for Septimus and his wife. Having an illegitimate child, though not uncommon in the Wizarding World, was frowned upon. She didn't want to turn into the Greengrass girl, who would always be a sore spot on her family name for being born to a witch of questionable heritage and profession.

"Mimi and Abraxas have grown quite close during her time here. Their relationship formed so effortlessly that I don't believe it would be much shock," Dumbledore supplied by way of support for the lie.

"And what of my wife, Headmaster? Should I allow her to be blindsided by such news?" Septimus asked angrily, as though he hadn't heard the professor.

He swallowed, "Yes, good point, Lord Malfoy. Tell your wife when you return home and make the young Malfoy know during his next visit home. Anyway, I do believe our Head Boy's quick thinking to be smart. Both you and Dumbledore have been seen at lunch and known to be in communication, especially as of late. With the return of your, erm, illegitimate daughter, your relations will make more sense to the public. If it were to come out, of course. And what a legend of families to be connected to, Miss Granger, even if it isn't your own."

Hermione laughed, unable not to_. If only the Headmaster knew how true that statement was_, she thought to herself, glancing at a thoughtful Dumbledore.

"Mimi," the Professor finally said, motioning her over to the desk. When she was standing beside him, he pointed to the photo of a young witch. There was no photo of her death, but the shot of her was no less disturbing than it would have been otherwise. She was lying in a bathtub that seemed to be the perfect size for a ten-year-old, dressed prettily in a dark blue frock, with her head leaning against the rim. Blood was spilling from her neck in the photo, slowly, as though it'd been draining for quite a while, staining down her chest. Grindelwald was squatting over her in the tub, a bloodied knife in his hand as he looked from the girl to the camera. His eyes were so empty that she worried he was truly seeing her as they became bright with life and excitement. A small smirk flashed on his face before he began to push up, and the photo looped to replay.

"She looks so much like you," he said as she touched the photo.

It was the truth. The girl she was pretending to be looked just like the photos that lined her grandmother's mantel in her proper time, and it was both painful and frustrating to look at. Deciding that she wouldn't acknowledge the statement, she turned to Septimus and lifted her chin very slightly to increase her confidence. "The Malfoy's don't have many girl's born to them."

He smiled, "No. We don't."

And that was the end of it. The Headmaster mentioned something irrelevant that Dumbledore replied to thoughtlessly, kissing Hermione's head and bidding everyone a good evening. After he left, Tom sat on he edge of her bed and sighed lowly, pulling off his suit jacket before letting his hands rest on his knees. He was sitting incredibly straightly, and Hermione found herself curious as to what he was thinking about. If he was regretting everything yet.

Septimus hugged her then, and the strength he possessed dawned on her. Both physically and magically, he was beyond capable, not to mention the power he held within the Wizarding World. She wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her head and she found herself so inspired by the younger wizard that it almost distracted her from her current problem. He'd tied her to one of the most powerful and protected families in Wizarding Britain, lying to a Ministry employee all in the name if keeping her safe. Sure, it meant she'd remain near to him and that alone was beneficial to him, but it was simply the value of what he'd done. He deemed her worthy enough to risk everything for, and Hermione found herself unsure where to go form here.

"I'll take these and burn them," Septimus said after pulling away from her, gathering the photos carefully and effectively ruining her plan. She reached for the one of the little girl she was playing, and swallowed at the look it earned her. "Are you sure you'd like to keep that? You really shouldn't be looking at something so vulgar, my dear."

Clutching it to her chest, she gave him a weak smile. This one was something she needed. The little girl in the photo had lost her life to a dark lord, and she was well on her way to doing the same. It was a reminder she was in desperate need of, and felt no reason to explain her actions. "Should I call you Papa?"

The blonde perked up at her question, obviously excited about the prospect. However, his brows quickly furrowed in consideration as he studied her. "Do you believe this will get out?"

"I should be asking you!" She laughed in an unbelieving sort of way that roused a chuckle from Tom.

"If this new lie is to come to light, we will take the proper measures."

"Do you hope that it does?" She inquired. Honestly, she did. It would be so much easier to play a Malfoy in the eyes of everyone else than to play a Montague playing a Granger. It would allow that sorry memory of the family to come to rest, at least outside of her life with Tom. She'd always be a Montague first to him.

"Truthfully, yes. I believe it would be easier for you to live freely."

"And 'ow would we explain my access to my family vaults?"

"The Goblins have always been discreet in their dealings, my dear."

She sighed, feeling as though she were getting nowhere, and suddenly remembered that she was in the 40s, after all. It was likely that her being privy to information had run its course. "Bonsoir, then, Oncle."

He gave her a gentle smile, as though all of the problems in the world had been solved. She again thought of how strange it was to think of the man as a father, but he was, and likely did have a softer side, despite how Abraxas may feel. The affection he'd just shown her had reminded her, very subtly, of her own father, and as sad as it was, it helped to raise her spirits.

"I'll be in touch. Good evening, Tom; do take care of our girl," Septimus ducked out quickly, as though he had overstayed his welcome, and Hermione looked to her wizard just as he did her.

"_Our _girl?" He asked, reminding her so much of Harry Potter that she had to fight off homesickness more viciously than usual. He looked genuinely confused as she moved to sit beside him, not even flinching away as she lifted a hand to touch his hair. "Suppose I walked into that one. At least," he seemed to remember her presence and stopped talking, pulling away from her touch. He tugged at his tie and looked at her curiously.

The witch gave him a weak smile, not exactly sure where she stood with her feelings. She was horrified that someone had broken past all of their wards and into her room, but seeing what Grindelwald was capable of first hand was more traumatizing than anything could ever be –and she was quite literally in bed with the enemy. Before now, he was almost a fairytale myth of what had been before the Darkest Wizard of her time reigned. Seeing it, and actually being a potential victim of his crimes drew a fear within her that she couldn't begin to hide.

"How do you think we should handle the Knights?" He asked, and she frowned. "This is just as much your problem as it is my own. It's only right that you have some say in it. Besides, I meant what I said," the back of his hand stroked her face, "It's proper time for them to meet their Lady."

She handed him the photo of the little girl, staring blankly at the floor. From the corner of her eye, she could see him taking it all in, and realized that he hadn't really looked at what Grindelwald had documented. It was curious, but it didn't matter.

"Who do you think it was?"

"Well, I do know who it wasn't, my dear. Not only could the box not be opened by someone of less than Pure blood, but our rooms are inaccessible to Half-bloods –aside from myself and a figure of authority, that is."

Hermione resisted a coughing fit of disbelief. She'd been passing through those wards every damned day since before term even begun. Deciding that the castle must have made yet another allowance for her survival her (like it had in placing the quartet of M's on her door rather than a proper _HJG_), she was able to remain calm and undetected.

Tom continued, "I overhead Abbott and Black in the boys lavatory, discussing something disheartening."

"Please don't say _ee_t was Cygnus?"

"No, my dear. It was Orion, who is quite fond of you, I might add."

Hermione looked down at the hand nearest her and grabbed it before leaning her head on his shoulder. "'e doesn't know me."

"If you're a Malfoy, tied to the Blacks, you will be the most valued and prized witch in the kingdom," he told her factually.

"More than if I was a Montague tied to you?"

"I'm not anyone," he whispered. It was such an admittance, as though he was giving her a way out. Hermione saw it was a test, and decided not to play along.

"Really, neither am I. But I'm powerful, and so are you."

He chuckled. "I say we torture them."

"Not Abraxas. Or Cygnus. Please, Tom?"

"Sure. Would you prefer Abbott or Black?"

"Burke," Hermione grinned, and listened as he chuckled deeply. It was hard to believe she was having this conversation, but it was no different than the rest of her night. Everything was an unbelievable blur. She could hardly believe she'd been taking shots and enjoying herself mere hours ago. "Abbott is so weak."

"He is far more deceptive that he'd lead you to believe."

"_Z_en I suppose I am not surprised that 'e is in Hufflepuff. That i_z_ the ultimate deception, non?"

Tom squeezed her hand. "Burke and Black. All yours."

Hermione fidgeted. "I'd like for my retaliation against Burke to be done quietly. Not before _z_e eyes of your Knights, or even his awareness, for that matter."

"You want him to believe he is safe," he said measuredly.

She nodded. "And I want Cygnus to be the one to punish his cousin."

He pulled away long enough to study her questioningly before smirking sadistically. "The Black family is nothing if not loyal to one another."

"Should _z_eir loyalty not be to you first?"

They stared at each other for a long time, Hermione hoping desperately that he would allow it. After awhile, seemingly after he decided that it was the part of her that had been corrupted by the Dark Arts books she'd been reading from and practicing that was asking, he nodded once. "Done. Whatever you want."

She grinned, allowing a dark glint to fill her eyes, and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. "What does it mean? For me to be _z_eir Lady?" She resisted smiling at the realization that she'd mastered his all over discussion patterns. Jumping from one subject to the other felt good, especially because she was feeling so scatter brained to begin with.

He pulled a thin bracelet out from his pocket and passed it to her. There was a lovely emerald pendant on it, neither too ugly nor gaudy for her taste. "You will always be my most valued supporter."

"How many do you 'ave?"

"Including you? One." He smirked as she laughed, slipping it onto the wrist that also held her gift from Malfoy. She lifted her hand to observe the stone. "I do prefer followers, you know. You and I are-"

"_Z_at's all. You and I are you and I. I understand."

He turned his head and kissed her hair. "That was my mother's," he murmured, and by way of response, Hermione snuggled closer to him, happy he didn't pull away. Within the twister of feelings and thoughts in her head, she felt the weight of him giving away something so personal press upon her like walls. "If you are in need of any of the Knights, whether it be an emergency or you'd like a glass of water, you can summon them by sheer will," he continued.

This was it. She was in. All that was left to do would be to succeed.

"But 'ow do _z_ey know?" She heard herself asking through the victory bells and warning alarms of triumph. "They have necklaces, too?"

"I will show you what they have later."

"Something on their wrist, _z_en?" She pulled away and looked to see that he was frowning at her. "Abraxas is always checking my wrists and thanking Merlin."

Tom sucked his teeth childishly, "He has no faith in me."

"I think he's just worried for me."

"Well, we're solving that tonight. You will show everyone just how lovely you can be, will you not?"

Sensing the lovely was a synonym for powerful, or ruthless, or unforgiving, she swallowed. She knew that he'd grown to see her in the likeness of himself, but he'd never voiced it. "Yes."

They sat in silence for a lone time. Hermione could barely think. All she knew was that her fingers were laced through his, and that his warmth was so comforting that she found herself easily molded into him. It wasn't clear when it happened, but it had, and she wasn't scared or upset about it. As much as this was it for him, it was for her as well. Everything he offered silenced her mind and alleviated her worries.

"You're shaking." He sighed. "What's the problem?"

She didn't want to tell him, so instead she said, "Don't you think," and shrugged. "Maybe I should be hanging back?"

Tom frowned, "Absolutely not. I haven't invested this much in you for you to give up on me."

"I'm not giving up on you. I'm scared."

He looked down to the photo, thumb sliding across the face of the little girl. Her eyes were still open: dead, dark orbs that seemed to bore into whomever was looking. "I imagine you would be, with this thing after you. But I'm not going to allow it. You have so many people in your life that aren't going to allow it."

"I _had _so many people in my life who believed _z_e same thing."

"They made so many sacrifices for you to be here, Mimi. They will continued to be made, I promise," he soothed, and she had to force herself not to breakdown. It was so sick, finding comfort for the death of someone else's family with a murderer (because it _was_ easier to continue to play the little girl, rather than accept that she may be her). For seeking comfort at all from one was as sick as it got, especially when he would be the one to kill her parents, anyway.

However, instead of feeling her bitterness grow toward Tom, who would have deserved it a thousand times over, she felt them harbor toward Dumbledore. He'd asked such a great task of her, and hadn't done very much to prepare her for it. Severus and Draco had done the work, but she couldn't help but feel as though they'd helped to soften her toward Tom and his cause, molding her into the perfect shell of what a Lady should be. It was helpful, as it'd gotten her this far and she was so sure it would get her to the end, but Dumbledore should have prepared her for _this_. He should have told her that she would find comfort in the enemy, that she would _like it_, because damn it he had to have known these things would happen. He had to of known that there would be no one here for her but Tom Riddle.

It was nauseating to consider why he would have kept it from her, or what else he was keeping from her.

The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, and she grew to feel as though someone were listening to their conversation. "Tom," she whispered. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she resisted looking to the door as he did, under the guise of looking at her.

"I know, my dear," he whispered soothingly, and his acting was so awe-inspiring that Hermione wanted to believe him. "Who is she?" He asked, still on target. She just shrugged. "The Montague daughter, then."

"I _am_ a Malfoy. _Z_e only explanation is for that to be her."

The presence left, and she found herself looking to the wizard quickly, obviously alarmed. "Abraxas," she said, standing quickly. She attempted to dart from the room, but he was much quicker than she, wrapping her in his arms to hold her still.

"We mustn't let them know that we know just yet, Mimi. We will go, and we will end whatever has been caused by all of this. But, I need you to be calm."

She wiggled out of his grasp, turning to him carefully. "I'm a Malfoy now, Monsieur. Surely you realize what that means."

It seemed to dawn on him that now her loyalty would lie elsewhere publically, and he scowled deeply, wandlessly closing her bedroom door. "Don't play games with me, Miss Granger. I know who you are. I know _you_. If you go against me-"

"I would _never _go against you, Tom," she told him, searching his face to see if he understood. All of the emotions and worries within her fell silent at her admittance. It weighed heavy in the air, but he seemed to realize what it meant. For what it was worth, Hermione found that she wasn't lying, and tears swelled in her eyes at the betrayal to herself and everything she stood for in coming here.

In the midst of her argument, she decided that she would have to complete her task differently now. She would have to find another way to help her loved ones in the future, and _Merlin_ it hurt to know she was bartering with herself over a 17-year-old _murderer. _But, she couldn't take back her words or the truth in them. She wouldn't lie to herself.

"But, you created _z_is lie, and I must live up to it."

"Swear to it," he told her, absolutely expressionless. She knew him well enough to see that he was feeling vulnerable, but he was still stronger than she would ever be. "On your magic, Mimi. Swear to _me_."

"Tom, I can't-"

"I can end you, my dear. It would sadden me so greatly, but it would so easy to out your secret. To hand deliver you to poor Grindelwald under the appearance that I would like to work and study under him. Do you know how simple it would be?" He stepped closer, forcing her against the wall. His thumb brushed the burn mark. "Do I need to show you?"

For the second time in one evening, she actually began to cry. "Promise you won't let me go if I swear it."

"Oh, Mimi," he thumbed her tears, "How could I?"

Looking away very briefly, she attempted to pull herself together. In her own mind, she couldn't tell if she was acting or not. She couldn't even begin to find away out of her predicament, and despite her decision just moments before, doing what he wanted would completely jeopardize everything. Swallowing back a sob, she looked back into his eyes.

"I, Mimi Montague-"

"You have to say your whole name, darling," he whispered, thumb rubbing against her face as his hand sought out hers to help seal the bond.

She swallowed again. "I, Mimi Medusa Medora Montague, swear that I will never betray you, Tom-"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," she continued, tears spilling onto her cheeks as he continuously rubbed some of them away. "On my magic."

The air around them seemed to crack with life, and she felt their palms and wrists warm greatly against each other, as though they were being sewn together. He smirked, leaning his forehead against hers as he moved the hand cradling her face around her shoulders. "Mimi Medusa Medora Montague," he murmured, and Hermione felt pieces of herself shift into place, as though she'd been waiting her entire life for someone to call her that.

It hurt, but not uncomfortably. It was almost as though she were finally conscious of something, though it wasn't clear what.

"On my life, and my word as a wizard, I won't allow another wizard to harm you, and I will not let go of you –for any one or thing." The magic around them swelled instantly, and pressed upon them like weights, so greatly that she gasped. All at once, it was around them and soaking into their beings, and she felt herself connect with him on an incredibly strange level. It was as though she could feel where he'd fractured his soul, and her general existence was fitting itself into those cracks.

It was an absolutely horrifying account of what they'd just done. All because he willed it, and she was too afraid and enchanted to say no.

"It will not always be gentle assurances and laced fingers with us, Mimi," Tom stroked face with his knuckles. "But you knew that, didn't you? You know so much," he breathed. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead, and smirked as she melted into him. He kissed her mouth quickly and stepped away, invisible mask back on for the world. "Let's go."

She took a moment to gather her wits before following him. There would be time later to fall apart and come to terms with whatever the hell she'd just allowed. Right now, the Knights were her biggest concern.

.

.

By the time they reached the Room of Requirement, Abraxas and Abbott were rolling around on the floor in an actual fistfight. Tom looked at her as though he wasn't sure what he was witnessing, mumbling a few swear words before pulling the blonde off the Hufflepuff for himself.

"So fucking what?" Abraxas seethed, and Hermione rested a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. Surprisingly, he reached for her, pulling her smaller frame into his protectively, eyes still locked on the other wizard fiercely. She could feel the magic and power rolling off of him, and although it wasn't nearly as powerful as his father's yet, she could see that he was well on his way to being an even greater asset to the Malfoy name.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked, pulling away a little bit, looking between them before glancing at the rest of the Knights, who were now watching each other with an air of weariness.

"Answer your Lady," their Lord demanded, forcing Abbott to the ground. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he cared very little for the boy, and she smiled as he pressed down on the arm twisted behind the lesser wizard's back. Hermione also thanked every higher power for being able to suppress a blush at his remark.

There was no quiet whisper at his words, no outraged or confused expressions. Although some looked a little put out, likely due to his furthered claim on her, she found satisfaction in the fact that they'd all at least slightly recognized her as higher than them on some level before this moment. She'd suspected that they understood her position since she sat before them for the first time, but this was confirmation. One that was much needed.

"The castle went on lockdown just as we were summoned, and Abe was obviously more agitated than everyone else," Greengrass supplied, earning a disgusted look for his smug tone by both a Knight she didn't recognize and Burke. She felt Cygnus fill the space beside her, and saw Orion eyeing his cousin carefully as Greengrass continued.

"Abbott showed up about five minutes before you all, shouting about Abe being a filthy liar and hypocrite about having an illegitimate family member," he looked between she and his Lord carefully, swallowing. "He still does not like Lady Granger very greatly, and although it seems that she is a Malfoy, he still believes she is unworthy of your attentions. Of being here, my Lord. Anyway, he attacked him."

"And you felt the need to resort to fists, Malfoy?"

Abraxas actually looked offended at the question. "He didn't bother with his wand, my Lord. He attacked me like a Muggle."

Tom had the decency to look outraged before he pursed his lips thoughtfully, looking down at his follower. "_That _was unexpected. You're proving yourself to be quite…something tonight, Knight." He sighed, and smirked as his follower cried out because of the added pressure to his wrist. "Even if she is a Malfoy, you believe her unworthy?"

"He should be ashamed that his father bedded a whore at the same time he bedded his mother, my Lord. There is nothing worthy in being born out of wedlock."

Hermione looked at her wizard then, eyes wide and curious about what his response would be. She wasn't sure if any of his Knights were aware, but she knew that he was the product of a love potion, and that his parent's were never married before the death of his mother. Hell, she wasn't sure if his parents even _knew _each other, or if his mother was so deranged as to pick a random man to father her child.

"I am not disgraced by any extension of the Malfoy name," Abraxas announced surely, and Hermione realized that he had likely been beyond prepared to describe her as a sister. The pride and fondness he so obviously and effortlessly held for her, paired with the fact that he'd been subtly calling her his sister since he'd given her the bracelet, had prepared him for any ridiculous idea that would be thrown at him, and he'd been ready to protect her any way he could. Again. The sudden summoning and castle lockdown had alerted him to something being wrong, and Abbott attacking him spurred his mind into action.

She pressed closer to him, arm slipping around his lower back, as Tom began to speak again. "And do you feel the same of Greengrass' sister?"

"He has never publically acknowledged his sister to the degree that Abraxas has. Not to mention, my Lord, that they are born multiple years a part."

He hummed thoughtfully, "And what of my acknowledgment of her, Henry? You were told once before that I find her worthy. Do you want to beat me as well for my foolishness? Do you need another taste of my feelings to your second guessing me?"

Abbott paused too long before saying, "No, my Lord. I believe in your judgment."

"Then why do you continue to cause such trouble?"

"Did you know she was a Malfoy?"

Tom shoved the wizard into the ground with more force than she could have imagined. She could feel his magic overpowering everyone else's, swarming around the room like a cocoon. He was beyond livid, and she wasn't sure what it meant for the Hufflepuff. "Burke," he spoke evenly, as though he wasn't pressing his shoe into the neck of his follower.

The blonde wizard stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Do you believe you have permission to question my beliefs?"

"Not so crudely, my Lord."

He smirked and nodded, observing his follower with a type of amusement that caused nerves to pit in her stomach. "Of course. I respect and honor everyone's wishes and thoughts. I will never turn away your concerns and reduce them to worthlessness. But, your Lord will never tolerate disrespect, on any level. Neither will your Lady," he looked to her with a quiet confidence, and Hermione smiled prettily at him. Condescendingly, he looked back over his followers with an air of subtle distaste, "Any questions? Concerns? Comments?"

Avery stepped forward, and Cygnus sighed at his foolery, causing Hermione to laugh softly. It carried, and earned her an odd look from the Knights as Tom gave her one of his own as well. However, instead of looking confused or disrespected, he seemed to be drinking her in. In response, she blushed, and regained enough of the confidence that had flooded her earlier in the evening to give him an alluring bat of her eyes. He straightened a bit, seeming to not have expected her forwardness, and focused on his Knight, a smirk playing on his lips.

Burke moved to step back and Tom frowned, "Stay, Burke. We aren't through." He motioned for Avery to go ahead.

"Forgive me," he bowed respectfully before turning to fasten his eyes on Hermione, lowering his head in a show of acceptance before focusing shifting his eyes between her nose and Abraxas. "But is it true?"

Tom sighed loudly, "Is what true, Avery? Really, a little clarity, please."

"Are you really a Malfoy?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe I have any reason to explain anything to you, Monsieur."

He glanced at his Lord, who was watching him with a calculating expression. "I mean no disrespect," the blonde shrugged, "It is just that, well, the Malfoy's don't have any girls."

Abraxas held her a bit closer as Tom inclined his head in thought. After a few moments of silence, Hermione pulled away from her 'brother' –it all _had_ to be a joke, really, as she found a very small part of her expecting to wake up at any moment- and looked over the Knights before settling on the one questioning her. "I'm right here, am I not?"

She made eye contact with Burke, who was watching her with a small degree of awe, before realizing that many of the more upstanding boys all had the same look in their eye. Her heart quickened, and beyond everything that she'd already accepted, she realized that the 'truth' had come out, and there would be no way around a public statement being made about her being a Malfoy.

Everyone now saw her as a rarity. It was everything she didn't want, being turned into a priceless object that they all craved desperately, and she'd walked right into it. Unsure as to how they'd react, she held herself as confidently as she had been all along, hoping that she looked as subtly wealthy and fortunately bored as the other Pureblood witches.

"So, my witch happens to be connected to the Malfoy name," Tom shrugged, and let go of Abbott roughly. The Knight remained on the ground, earning a disgusted sneer from his Lord. "Is that going to be a problem?" The tone of finality in his voice closed the conversation. A chorus of "no, my Lord," sounded, but it didn't stop them from watching her with new eyes. _For now, at least_, she thought wearily, feeling Cygnus' irritation grow with Abraxas' protectiveness.

Hermione looked to her wizard to find him watching Abbott curiously before pointing his wand at him and mumbling an Unforgivable. Screams sounded off the walls, and after a few moments the curse was lifted and pleading could be heard. He let him go on for a while, nodding understandably before resuming his torture. The Knights watched in twisted fascination, and Hermione took the time to turn and hug Abraxas tightly, whispering a thank you.

As they pulled away, he pressed a small pouch into her hands. "I was waiting for this to happen," he explained as she opened it to find a dainty family emblem nestled into the velvet. She looked at him with wide eyes, and he shrugged.

"The saying is true, then?" The pair looked to Cygnus, all completely oblivious to their surroundings. "Malfoy's take care of their own," he grinned, and motioned to the necklace she was pulling out. "So, your mother's family then, that's their chain?"

She knew he was referring to the one she'd worn over her blouse when Riddle had requested it, but she was usually in Myrine's choker as well. Between in a rock and hard place, she wasn't lying when she told him, "Yes." Omissions weren't exactly lies, after all.

"Not too many illegitimate children are pure on both sides," he commented, though it was more to himself than to either of his friends. "May I?" He asked, looking between them.

Hermione shrugged and offered him the chain to clasp behind her neck. This necklace was shorter then her others, falling just an inch or so below her collarbone, meaning that there was no way of getting around displaying it proudly. To her surprise, the platinum turned to match the gold of the rest of her jewelry, and she looked to Abraxas in awe. He just shrugged, and before any more words could be exchanged Tom called for their attention.

Orion had taken to torturing Abbott in his place, and the pair shared a knowing look as the trio moved to join him. He motioned for her to go and sit, which she did, allowing him to get a few quiet words in with the Malfoy and Black as one follower entertained the rest.

It was only after she'd sat down and crossed her knees that she suddenly realized how warm the room was. Looking over at Tom, she realized that he'd never put his suit jacket back on, and had rolled his sleeves up his forearms. It was the most bared skin of his that she'd ever seen, and she took a moment to admire him. Understandably, he was pale (not as greatly as Malfoy, thankfully), and it was a charming contrast with the coloring of his attire and the lighting of the room. The slope of his nose and careful curves of his face caused him to appear like a King addressing his preferred members of court, and Hermione moved her arms to rest on that of the chair, sitting straighter and gripping the edges in quiet consideration.

She caught Abraxas' attention and he winked proudly at her readjustment. Beside him, Cygnus acted as though he were flipping his hair grandly before smiling and bowing very subtly and mouthing 'my Lady.' Resisting smiling, she glanced at Tom to find that he was starring at his follower as though he'd lost his mind before turning to look at her, his expression changing to a mixture of pride and amusement. He moved to stand nearer to her, resting his elbow against the elaborate back of her chair as her other wizards moved to stand off to the side.

Tom cleared his throat and the excitement ceased. "If you happen to be curious as to why I just allowed a dear follower to be tortured, I assure that I have sound reason. While I will not always be so forthcoming, tonight seems to be an incredibly special night."

His tone worried Hermione again, but she didn't fidget or squirm in her seat. Instead, she relaxed a little further, and felt his pride for her as though it were tangible.

"The only reason your fellow Knight knew anything of your Lady's heritage is because he was listening in on our private conversation. While he should have been here, he was lingering in our hall. Of course, you can see where my displeasure stems from." There were murmurs of understanding. "With that being said, dear Knights, I'd like for you all to know that we are even more disappointed in other events that have occurred tonight."

"The reason for the lockdown?" A wizard that looked awfully a lot like a Goyle asked, earning displeased looks from Hermione, Tom, and Lestrange, who'd been standing beside him. As though he could catch the stupidity of both the question and asking it, the handsome wizard stepped away from his less than visually pleasing neighbor. She gave him a small smile that he seemed to enjoy enough to give her a nod of recognition.

"Why yes, Goyle," Tom said tersely, "it seems that you are correct in your outburst. Perhaps you have some more information on the matter?"

He flushed, realizing his mistake. "No, my Lord."

"Keep quiet then, Knight. There will be room for questions," the words were out of Hermione's mouth before she even realized she saying them. It caused shocked looks from the group, but a smirk of amusement could be heard as Tom continued easily.

"Thank you, my dear," he said casually. His voice changed back to cold emptiness as he continued, "Tonight, I have been failed, and I am not sure if I am disappointed in one –or some- of you all, or myself. Not only were my wards broken, but Lady Granger's room was vandalized and poor kitten killed."

The room had been silent before, but now it seemed deafening. The group seemed to be in a collective state of disbelief, and Tom pushed off the chair to pace before her. "Yes, I can understand how this can be alarming to you all. It's even more so to myself because of how I have keyed the wards around the room to begin with." He paused, looked at his Knights, and called a handful of names. The wizards stepped forward, trembling, and he let them simmer for awhile before smirking, "You all are Half-bloods, and you will never be more thankful for the state of your blood as you will be now. Please, join Abraxas and Cygnus. For the time being, I am not questioning your loyalty."

He studied the others as they shifted nervously, and Hermione guessed that he was debating the best plan of action. Finally, he sighed dramatically, and continued pacing. "Really, it's so disappointing to learn that Knights, wizards that I respect –yes, I respect you, make no mistake of that-, have crossed me. Have decided that old Grindelwald is a wiser, and dare I say more powerful, wizard to align themselves with than I.

"I am not ignorant to the fact that he has many years on me, thus he is more learned and matured than I am. I am aware than there is so much I could learn from the wizard if I were to allow myself to submit to his will. But, I am also aware that I am better than he; that my potential and drive surpass levels he couldn't imagine; that I have more reason to dominate now than I ever did before."

Hermione watched him in quiet admiration, taking in his words but barely hearing them. She wondered what it was like to be in the same position as his Knights. If she truly believed in his ideals, it would be so easy to fall for his handsome face and gentle charms, even if she were a wizard. He spoke so confidently, with so much pride and power that it was hard not to lose herself. If she were a foolish girl, one that wasn't sent from the future to dismantle him, she would easily swear her life to him.

Very instantly, she felt her heart stop in her chest. Her mouth began to feel as though it were coated in something strange, tongue fuzzy and tonsils heavy. She resisted gaging, but the taste of everything she'd eaten that night filled the back of her throat disgustingly. _Why_, she questioned herself, and it was indeed the question. Because she had, indeed, sworn herself to him. Twice, already. And this time had been more official than the last. Sure, was her magic and not her life, but as this point, there was no room for one without the other. She'd fucked up, especially tonight, and there was nothing she could do about it.

With that realization, she swallowed down her regrets thickly and decided she had to deal with it now. The easiest way to fix everything was to fix Tom himself, but that was damned impossible. He'd already broken apart his soul, and crucio'd his follower with enough vigor to inform everyone that he'd gladly do it again. Hell, he'd even told her that he couldn't promise not to hurt her –though he did swear that he wouldn't allow another to

Somehow, she was sure that he wasn't lost. He was still salvageable. She just had to figure out what parts of him to tap into in order to turn all of that strength and determination into reserves for positive feats. He was so intelligent, with so much potential that even through his dark tendencies and urges, he could be an important man in their world without sacrificing so many lives in the process. All she had to do was figure out how to influence both he and his Knights without seeming overbearing and power hungry.

"Isn't that something, my dear?" He was asking, gesturing to those who had stepped forward. There were at least ten wizards before her. "All of these wizards have inquired about your hand. None of them seem to understand that _you_ are _mine_."

Her eyes meet his, and the obvious truth dawned on her. She had to increase her own charm; she really and truly had to seduce him –all of him- in order to better him, for the better (rather than help him succeed in taking over the Wizarding World, which she feared her helping him would do). She gave him a very gentle smile, one that seems to equate to submission, and his eyes brightened with hope and success.

"_Z_at I am yours," Hermione murmured before turning to look at them. To her, it didn't matter who was interested, because she only had time for Riddle. Still, she gave them all a brilliant smile. "Per'aps you all can take those feelings of admiration and turn them toward your Lord. So long as your loyalty is with 'im, _z_en I am here for you. As an extension, or vessel, even, to help your furthered dedication and support." She eyed them all carefully, allowing a mixture of innocence and admiration to tinge the power she knew was radiating off of her. It was meant to sway them further in Tom's direction, but as she made eye contact with him, it seemed that she had also managed to sway him in her's.

A chorus of 'yes, my Lady,' could be heard, and the witch resisted wondering what on earth she had just done. She doubted that there would be any further problems from their lack of faith in her or their Lord, and she skimmed the rest of his Knights to see that the awe in their eyes over her being a Malfoy seemed to increase tenfold over her recent words. She felt larger then life, and decided that she understood Tom on some sick level now. Their respect and warm approval did wonders for her self-confidence.

Eyes connecting with Abraxas, she realized that he was watching her differently, as though he were suddenly realizing what it meant for everyone to believe she was a Malfoy. A certain pride rolled over her as she absorbed the awareness in his eyes, and the two shared a smirk that she turned to Tom very quickly. Malfoy was still her partner in crime, and he would become even more so before the time this was all over.

She straightened up in her seat, seemingly moving to the edge of it, and laced her fingers over her knees. "Now. Let's stop avoiding the reason you were all called here _z_is evening," she said distastefully.

"What you opened while in the room was something you would not have been able to open if you were not Pureblood. Unfortunately, it was also not something you would have know was even there if you were not told. Which is how I am well aware for your treachery." He looked over them one more time, eyes landing his preferred Black. "Cygnus, come."

Doing as he was told without any reservation or hesitation, the young Black bowed before the pair and kept his head lowered. Tom gave him a proud sort of a look that Hermione was sure her friend would have loved to of been privy to before commanding him to rise and stand next to him. He rested a hand on his Knight's shoulder and they looked at the others together. They all seemed to realized that he knew who been they one to betray him, and their was a buzz of curiosity in the air. "Who, dear Knight, is the last person you expect to be loyal to Grindelwald?"

"You," he answered honestly, and Hermione laughed sweetly behind them.

Although he seemed to recognize the humor, the young Lord didn't acknowledge it. "Of your fellow Knights," he pressed patiently.

Cygnus really seemed to consider it, until finally saying. "Henry Abbott."

Riddle slapped his friend's back affectionately, "Fucking right, Cygnus. Our own little Hufflepuff is a traitor." He laughed, and so did everyone else. The man of the moment didn't even seem to recognize that they were speaking of him.

Hermione brandished her wand and shot a _rennervate _at him. He gasped into consciousness, groaning at the amount of pain he was in. They watched him curiously as he attempted to help himself up, looking around curiously when no one seemed to help him. She'd noted that the always helped each other after punishment, and gave a vindictive smile as he realized that everyone was staring at him with great aversion.

From her seat, she decided to test out a curse she'd been working on. She wasn't incredibly sure what made her want do it, but it wasn't something she could change her mind about it after she pointed her wand at the frantic wizard. "Percutio electrum,*" she mumbled, and his horrified screams filled the air, drawing everyone's attention to her. She held it for too long, fascinated by the say his body coiled and twisted as electricity coursed through it. She was surprised, honestly, that it didn't kill him, and wasn't sure what she would have done if it had.

Tom turned to her with extreme curiosity, and it was the most expressive she'd ever seen him. He seemed to realize that he could learn something's from her then, and gave her a handsome smirk of both interest and delight before refocusing on his task.

"Who else?" He asked lowly, while the Knights' attentions were averted. Being close enough to hear him, she turned her eyes back on the pair, realizing that Tom wasn't going to let his Knight know that it was her who'd requested that he punish his own cousin. "I am awfully sorry about this," the Lord continued. She supposed that he did it for her benefit, to keep her in good graces, but it still hurt to see disbelief fill her friend's face.

"Orion," he said, and it seemed to draw his cousin's attention away. He must have realized he'd been caught, and would be punished, because he stepped forward rather valiantly.

Tom stepped away from his friend. "You know what you have to do," he said before moving back over to Hermione. She stood then, unclasping the buckle of her Beauxbatons robe and letting it fall into the seat. It'd begun to stick to her skin, and although she wasn't incredibly happy to be standing before everyone in the strapless gown, was she satisfied to be out of it.

"If you clasp the stone in your hand and think of Cygnus, you can inspire him," he whispered to her, and she looked at him with huge eyes. While he might have meant it as a way to ease the other boy's nerved about having to punish his cousin for going against her, it was sick that she could influence the Knights with the stone.

She wondered what had caused him to tell her such a thing, and watched as Cygnus raised his wand. "Crucio," rolled off of his tongue as though he'd done it a thousand times, and she could feel Tom swell with pleasure beside her.

Orion managed not to scream for the first 14 seconds he was under the curse, but low whines turned into shrieks of pain as Cygnus held the curse for 40 long, horrible seconds. It'd easily drawn the attention of everyone in the room, and the caster wasted no time continuing with his assault. He murmured the next spell, but she recognized the affects after it was lifted. It was whatever spell Tom had used on Abraxas before their first meeting, and she made a mental not to ask him about it at a more appropriate time, as it was obvious that it wasn't exactly a secret.

As the boy begin to beg for mercy at repeated shocks of the unknown spell, Hermione watched as the younger Black conjured an arrow and set the tip aflame, kneeling over his cousin. The wizard beside her must have sensed that she would move to stop him from whatever he was about to do, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, running his fingers along her bared skin slowly. She struggled to get away from him, but he tugged her into his chest and pressed his lips to her hair. "Trust me," he whispered, and she stilled, listening as Orion's screams filled the air.

The excitement and encouraging that had filled the air disappeared, and the room fell eerily silent. Tom let her go to the sound of quiet, rugged gasps, and she turned to see the Cygnus had shoved the arrow into his cousin's shoulder, seeming to have twisted and turned it viciously by the amount of blood spilling onto his closed.

He stood carefully, placing a scouring charm on his hands, and turned to face them, eyes instantly locking onto hers. "The House of Black will carry this betrayal for much longer than you will ever know, my Lady. You will find only the utmost loyalty from this and future lines from this moment on, or let our magic burn us from within."

Hermione was unsure as to what she should do, but offered an inclination of her chin in acknowledgment. That was absolutely going to affect the future, and she watched as he gathered his cousin and left. Once he'd left, Tom ordered someone to take care of Abbott for the weekend, effectively dismissing everyone but Abraxas and Burke.

"We started this evening together," he explained, allowing the room to supply them with a small table, four shot glasses, and a bottle of Ogden's Finest. "Too bad ickle Alphie isn't here with us."

"If tonight is anything to go by, he'll be here tomorrow," Burke supplied as Tom poured.

The dark haired wizard smirked and chuckled. "Yes. That was quite odd, wasn't it? I didn't realize just how much he cared for you, my dear," he turned his eyes on her as he slid a shot glass in her direction, eyes falling to her new necklace.

"Malfoy. Why is your sister wearing a mood stabilizer?"

Burke, who was starting in on his second shot and obviously still drunk from earlier, laughed. "When a witch is born a Malfoy, she is supposed to be quite lovely to look at, but a livewire," he explained, shocking everyone. Hermione frowned and looked between her wizards questionably. "We're related Malfoy, didn't you know? My grandfather, 'bout 13 generations ago, married a Malfoy witch. Found a whole book about how difficult she was to manage when she wasn't wearing her stabilizer," he shrugged. "_That_ is obviously faulty, my Lord. She nearly fried Abbott to death."

"So that's what that smell is," Tom said curiously, studying her as she took a shot. She really hadn't signed up for an after meeting confessional, and wished she could just leave.

"Pray tell, Burke, what was so horrible about the woman?"

He shrugged, "She was a Malfoy."

Both Abraxas and Hermione frowned, and her wizard smirked almost sweetly at her. "Don't worry, my dear, I think you're quite charming." He leaned in and kissed her collarbone, which stunned everyone. However, she felt his magic graze hers, and understood. He was testing to see if the necklace was attempting to work on her or not. At his troubled frown, she realized it was, and looked to Abraxas expectantly. He nodded in response, silently promising to deactivate whatever charms were on the thing.

"If you don't mind, my Lord," Burke began, but Riddle stopped him with a look. "Actually, I need you for a moment longer, but you may go, Abe. Thank you for ensuring our little secret was kept as long as possible."

Malfoy tipped back another shot and bowed respectfully before squeezing the living daylights out of the witch. "Breakfast in the morning," he said casually, and she nodded in reply before he disappeared out the door.

Once he was gone, Tom grabbed Burke's left wrist and removed the cufflinks that were still in place before rolling his cuffs back. "Come, witch," he instructed, gathering her attention. She smiled shyly at Burke, and he looked somewhat alarmed over whatever they were up to. "This is the first one I carved," he explained, and she ran her fingers over the small bit of puckered skin before admiring the sword.

"Press your wand to it," Tom encouraged. Hermione did as advised, enticing a shocked gasp from Burke, who then clenched his jaw tight, breathing deeply. She pulled away after a moment too long, and grinned at her wizard, who smirked in amusement.

"It was really just meant to be a means of communication," he explained, continuing to hold the wizard's wrist in a way that left the small, well-scarred sword bared for her to see. "But, this is an added benefit. I never imagined…do it again. Think of spell."

She glanced at Burke, who seemed more than prepared to take whatever she'd do to him. Deciding to shock him, she did something incredibly forward and absolutely frowned upon outside of Wizarding marriages. She transferred a very little bit of her magic into him. At this, he actually ripped his arm out of his master's hold, looking at her as though she'd lost her mind entirely. What she'd done was experimental; rather than sharing her power _with _him, she'd simply shot a little of her magic into him. It was, essentially, like taking a drug, and she wondered if he realized that.

Tilting her head as Tom laughed heartily, she gave him a very tiny smile, allowing her wizard to wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into his chest. "Scared of a little new magic, Knight"

Burke shook his head, looking between the pair. "You all are sick," he was saying, but Hermione sensed that he enjoyed it as she clasped the emerald in her palm and searched for the wizard in question. "What was that? Black magic?"

Finally sobering, Tom lifted a hand placed it on Burke's shoulder. "Because we're really studying Black magic in the castle, Perseus? Come now, we aren't that daft."

"I need to go," he announced, still holding his wrist as though it would fall off if he didn't.

Hermione shrugged and the young dark Lord suggested that he do so, both smirking kindly when the Knight turned back to look at them before exiting the room of requirement completely. When they were alone, he looked down and kissed her hard, catching the witch off guard and seemingly reveling in the way she responded to him.

"Mmm, my little witch," he hummed, arm still over her shoulders as he held her close. She looked up at him with an easy bliss that she knew he would recognize as a side effect of Dark Magic usage. "What'd you do?"

"I don't think you'd be very proud of me," she whispered.

He pecked her lips, and she was more than happy that he'd moved their relationship into the physical. After bit of the illicit magic she'd used, she felt as though her body were humming with life and excitement. It was dull, there enough to leave her aware but not uncomfortable, and she seemed to realize that as she used it more, she would need to find some sort of release. She knew that it would help to cement him to her, and decided that she wouldn't hesitate when the time came.

A knowing smirk appeared on his lips, and she at least blushed. "Dosed 'im with my magic," she admitted in an even quieter voice. "I didn't want him become alarmed if he started sensing my signature in his life more often," she explained.

He watched her as though he were realizing something. Like he was finally seeing her. And then he kissed her hard again, free hand travelling over her waist and hip very lightly. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

Hermione gave him another grin, and he kissed her open mouth. "Yes."

He continued with his subdued exploration of her body, as though he were simply trying to help her expel what little extra energy she'd gained, and she allowed it, happy to be in heels for the night and able to reach his neck and ears with her mouth, hands moving into his hair.

"Mimi," he murmured, lifting his hand and forcing her to look at him. "A lot happened this evening."

"I know."

Amusement lit his eyes. "I'm proud of you."

Having not realized how much she'd wanted to hear those words, from absolutely anyone at this point, she froze, looking at him with spacey eyes before wrapping her arms tightly around him and burying her face in his chest.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. Neither acknowledged it, but in the midst of how turned around as that evening, they'd made a pretty large commitment to one another. For right now, it didn't matter. But she honestly wondered what it would mean for them in the morning.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Percutio Electrum*_ means absolutely nothing and is only my crap attempt at trying to name a spell (which is harder than I thought it would be) that causes the target to feel as though they're being electrified. (Cheers for that never happening ever.)  
**_Please _**don't hate me for what I just did. I had no intentions of Tom's stupid lie coming to light, but as I was attempting to edit this, I found myself unable not to add that part. I don't know why, but something told me it would be one of the more important rash decisions I make during this story. It does a mixture of change and solidify vital plot-lines. Hopefully it was enjoyable (:

I'd like to send a special thank you Ku Shun'u for pointing out a rather huge mistake that I made. I had Hermione tell Dumbledore that he would kill Grindelwald, which is very untrue. I hadn't wanted to change the original story line that much. It's something I'm going to attempt to fix in the next few chapters.  
Again, thanks a bunch for bringing this to my attention. Anyway, I'm happy you found the story and have enjoyed it so far! (:

As always, thank you _so _much to everyone who reviewed! It truly means so much so me to read your thoughts and enjoyment, and I'm happy to know that the last chapter wasn't as dreadful as I thought it was. Also, a big thank you to my new followers and favoriters. You all are awesome ^-^

Happy New Year! I hope everyone's 2014 is lovely, prosperous, and full of great fanfic ;D


	16. Mine

**Disclaimer**: I'm not JK Rowling, this lovely world belongs to her.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"Tell me you love me."

Hermione fell into Dumbledore's couch and kicked off her shoes with ease, a grin on her face as she lifted her feet into the cushions with such casualty that she wasn't incredibly sure where she thought she was. She just felt so overwhelmingly successful that, for once, she was able to relax. And his rooms were the safest place to do so, of course. Even if she felt a growing distrust for him, he was still the only one who knew about her.

"Quite a bit, my dear. Just what are we celebrating?" He asked humoredly, sitting down across from her and snapping for a tea service. "And so late, as well."

"Tom's meeting with his Knights, I figured I'd sneak up and report in." She leaned forward to prepare her own tea. "But, to answer your question, we're celebrating my new status, as Lady of the Knights." She contemplated shaking her bracelet for him to see, but decided to keep it to herself. She sat back and sipped the new blend cautiously. "I've done it. I'm in. And it only took what? Half a semester."

He looked genuinely impressed, and nodded thoughtfully. "I take it this happened last night."

"Correct."

"You all looked beautiful together, at the ball. It's too bad you'll have to return to the 90s, and he'll follow the wrong path."

Hermione shrugged. "We have right now, at least, and I'm making head way. That's all that matters."

He moistened his lips and sipped his tea. "Might I ask what occurred after we left?"

"Off the record, he called a meeting, and we determined who broke into my rooms. After dealing with said problem, he informed them of my status, and we essentially went on our merry way after that."

He stared at her for a long time before setting his cup on the table, and she sensed her relaxation was over for now. "Hermione. I need to know I can trust you."

_Yeah,_ she thought, _me, too._ "You can. I'm all here. I still hate him."

"It doesn't seem that way from where I'm sitting."

She looked at him hard. "I'm doing my job, then. Is that a problem?"

"The air around you is different. I fear you've forgotten where you came from."

She bit her tongue to keep her feelings to herself. "I could never forget a thing about what I left behind, Albus. And I damn sure cannot forget the role I'm playing here. I'm doing my best to stay afloat and relevant to Tom. Forgive me if playing with snakes is a little more dangerous than you assumed it would be. They do strike every now and then, you know," she almost pouted, but didn't. It felt silly to resort to describing house mascots, but it was the simplest way to describe what was happening without admitting to the fact that being in Slytherin house was, in fact changing her, and not necessarily just so she could survive in the dungeons.

"I don't want you to forget you have claws."

She scowled. "You did a good job of having those trimmed back before I left."

They sat in a long silence, and she suspected that he was waiting for her to apologize for her outburst. However, she allowed her stubborn nature to return long enough to hold out for him to let go of any reservations he was holding for her. "You feel I did something wrong."

"I wish I knew more of what occurred while I was here. I feel blind, like everything is going to pull out from under me and I'm going to be trapped."

"Why would you say that?"

She looked at him soundly, lifting her chin a little. "If I told you I knew how to stop him, and that my knowing was going to get me killed, would you send me back now?"

"I would send you someplace safe, until I completed constructing a way to send you back," he said measuredly, and she threw her hands up.

"Do you hear what you're saying, sir? I'm a sitting duck. I'm drowning. I'm digging my own grave over here." Hermione told herself she wouldn't cry in front of him, that she wouldn't break to pieces, but she did. Tears swelled in her eyes and she busied herself with fixing a new cup of tea.

"Do you feel as though you've been discovered?"

"No, Dumbledore. I am confident in my place here. Tom has me safe and secure in his hold. And I know that you won't let me fall too deep, I am just afraid for myself. I've _succeeded_. More than I have before. I'm officially it, his, a part of the Dark cause. I can't fake or front anymore. You understand what I'm saying right? I've become just as much his as he is my own. I've bought myself time, but sooner or later I'm going to have to prove myself. I know it."

The professor sighed. "I will work more diligently on sending you home. I've at least discovered the proper metal I'm going to need to infuse."

She just stared at him. "I can't believe you didn't send yourself notes."

"My failures surprise me more than they ever will you, my dear witch."

Hermione looked away from him, at the window, and forced herself to feel confident and sure of herself again. Weakness wasn't going to help her now. "I'm worried because his dreams don't match what we believed them to be."

"Perhaps he made himself humble in the eyes of those around him? Saying he wants to become a tyrant wouldn't exactly do, would it?"

She laughed. "Maybe."

"Or maybe he needs a push. You're here to do more than just learn his secrets, Hermione."

"Honestly, that's why I'm so scared and hurt. I need more of an objective."

"Forget that you have one. Become the witch you need to be to rule."

She picked up a handful of grapes from the tea tray and considered his words. Forgetting that she had an objective would be detrimental. "Oh, a whole day has passed, so I suppose you already know that Abbott spilled the beans about me being a Malfoy."

"I hadn't heard. I was unaware that you even knew who he was."

"Oh, good, he's managed to keep his mouth shut," she grumbled. "You'd be surprised about who Tom has in his grasp. Although…well, that's not important."

"I haven't seen Henry Abbott or Orion Black since they left the ball last night," he said skeptically, as though he knew they'd tortured them rather horribly.

It wasn't any of his business what happened during meetings, though. And even is she wanted to tell him, she couldn't. As the worlds formed in her head to spill out, her veins began to burn painfully. _The promise. _Resisting sighing, she smirked, "Perhaps the festivities wore them out."

The professor didn't look convinced. "Have you informed Septimus?"

"Abraxas did. We don't think it's going to become too public, but we're prepared if it does. I have a family emblem, and Abraxas has been calling me his sister for quite some time now."

"Yes, I noticed. Some excellent foreshadowing, is it not? I'm surprised you didn't just come as a Malfoy. Well, I guess you had to build your way up to that. I do think it best for you to be known as one. It makes it easier."

"Yes, but those who matter still know me as a Montague. I still have a lie to keep up with." She got up after finishing the grapes. "I need to be heading back now. I just wanted you to know that I'm officially in, and I'm going to have to pull away a little."

"You've pulled away a lot, Hermione."

She sighed and smoothed a hand over her hair. "I know. I just…I'll always come back. Come _home_. Just promise you'll come get me if I don't."

"Know that I will," he stood and opened his arms for a hug, which she gave willingly. "You two favor each other, you know."

Hermione frowned, more than upset over him continuing to compare and relate the two. "I suppose we both have dark curls," she said, rater than acknowledge any other ways they might be similar.

"I meant in mannerisms. You carry a conversation in the same way he does. It's convincing, more so than the careful way you held them before. Your mind is quicker."

"Sounds better than what you were insinuating," she mumbled, and then something dawned on her. "Sir, I was wondering if I could see a list of the wizards curious in my hand?"

Dumbledore frowned before summoning a piece of parchment from his desk. Duplicating it, he passed her a rather long sheet over, and Hermione frowned at the number of names on it. "I don't even know these people!" She exclaimed.

He laughed heartily, "Neither do I."

Her eyes widened. "I suppose I am pretty sheltered here in Hogwarts. I hardly have a clue about the goings on out there. What they think and say about me."

"It's for the best. Your focus is in the castle."

She nodded, shrunk the paper, and tucked it into the pocket of her robe as she slipped her shoes back on. "Can you at least tell me how long I'm going to be here?"

He considered her for a long time, and Hermione realized that even now he knew for more than he was letting on. Deciding she wouldn't question whatever secrets he was guarding so dearly, she tried not to fault him. He'd said for himself that from where he was standing she looked like one of _them_, so it didn't matter that he also held a lot of power over her (aka he was her only way back, and she desperately needed to get there), which was rather disheartening. However, as long as she knew where she stood, it didn't matter who believed her to be a supporter of anything. Everything Tom was going to stand for was against her. She would always come back to Dumbledore, no matter how far away seeing her task through took her.

"A while."

She sighed. "See you in class, Professor. Take care."

"You too, Hermione. You too."

On her way back down to the dungeons, she decided that she shouldn't wait any longer to take over her new life. Strangely enough, she felt as though there were two witches living within her now, and the more they coexisted, the more they became the same person. It was a dangerous feeling, but combing her usually level-minded and sensible self with the cautious but unhinged Mimi made her feel suddenly all-powerful. She could really do and be anything, and in this cause, it was a future Dark Lady.

Slipping into Slytherin and up to her rooms, she realized that Tom was already back. Silently, she cursed, realizing she didn't have quite as much time to prepare herself for the talk she was about to force as she'd hoped. Crossing her fingers, she pushed open her bedroom door and studied him for a long time as he pointedly ignored her before stepping in and shutting the door.

.

.

"We need to talk."

Tom looked up at the witch slowly, shocked at the tone in which she'd addressed him, which was honestly less than up to par. "You've been to see your uncle, I take it."

She frowned, obviously not in the mood to discuss the old man, and he smirked, happy to see that his distaste for the Gryffindor Head of House was rubbing off on her. "Remind me to tell you about that in the morning. I have something more important right now."

Curiosity peaked, he motioned toward the empty space on the bed beside him, and watched as Mimi crawled over her new bench and onto her bed. The indignity of it all didn't pass him by, especially not when the weight of her hidden family emblem weighed down the loose fabric of her shirt, and he busied himself with putting the book he'd been reading –on theories behind Black Magic- on her bedside table before folding his legs in front of him. She opted to mock his position, depositing herself directly in front of him, before reaching out and taking one of his hands in both of hers.

"I don't like going to meetings."

One eyebrow rose in curiosity, but he remained otherwise unaffected by her words. "I'm sorry to hear that," he allowed carefully, thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles. She'd never let on that she didn't enjoy joining him on Saturday evenings, at least not in the way she expressed her displeasure in Dueling Club. Thinking more deeply, he could recall glancing at her during meetings, when her mind was obviously elsewhere as she stared blankly at the Knights; even then, she wasn't completely put out or unhappy, which left him unsure as to why she'd suddenly decided she couldn't make time for them any longer.

"I enjoy seeing you at them," he continued.

She smiled as though it was something she wanted to hear from him, and he duly realized that she was likely feeling the aftereffects of what had occurred the night before. The only problem with that line of consideration was that she usually flat out told him what was bothering her, even if it took a little longer for her to share from time to time. "I know," she finally said, fidgeting a bit. "I enjoy watching you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"This isn't 'ow I imagined my life here. What you want for yourself and what I want for myself are to completely different things." She moved to sit on her knees and swallowed, eyes searching his imploringly. "I never imagined I'd meet not only someone like you, but that you'd make space for me in your life. I am so grateful for how may allowances you've made for me. I just…Grindelwald tortures. He kills. 'e has no remorse for the things he's done. And all for what? _Z_e sake of blood purity."

Tom blinked, having not expected this again. Licking his lips, he bit his tongue in thought before clearing his throat. "You think I've organized these young men so that I can preach the same, sorry ideals as Grindelwald."

"You only have Purebloods under your handle. You _hated _me before learning of my status…and I can only assume you want me because of it. For the same rea-"

"Don't you dare," he growled, eyes sharpening. "I forbid you from comparing me to him, Granger." They sat in silence for a full minute, simply staring at each other. He felt himself soften as he watched her, taking in the sad look in her eyes and realizing that whatever brought this on was bigger than what she was saying. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his free hand to brush against her face, raising his eyebrows in shock when she turned her face into his hand, seeking comfort from his touch. It was a good sign. He could work with her still viewing him as a place to find comfort.

"I admit that I believe those of pure lineage to be better than Muggleborns, but I am not opposed to those of less than desirable blood. Some offer many a fresh thought to our world, often for the better. Some have the drive and desire to go far in this world, and enough discretion to trust that they won't out us by sheer mistake. Other's however…they have no business here. They show an ounce of magical talent and are accepted into Hogwarts and given the same caliber of education as those like you, who deserve better, even more. Are you not upset about that?"

She swallowed and sighed. "I believe that everyone deserves a chance to better themselves."

He lifted his chin, "Is that what this is about, then? You don't agree with my ways?"

"_Z_ey are not right! We go to the Room of Requirement because it hides what we're doing, because it i_z_ wrong. I want you to be…all that you can be. Your talent and power could guide so many in this world…you could be an example of so much. But I can't understand what you're going to do with all of this. Or why you torture them so. Or why I want to understand." She looked at him almost shyly, and he realized that she was about to tell them exactly what the problem was. "And want to please you so, so desperately."

Resisting smirking as she kept her eyes anywhere but on him, Tom began to readjust himself, moving into the middle of her bed and opening his legs. "Come here," he motioned and after a moments hesitation she moved to sit between them, leaning against his chest with obvious discomfort. He hummed happily, arms wrapping around her as her head came to rest on his shoulder. "This is nice, right?" He murmured, resting his cheek against the side of her head. Lacing his fingers with hers, he moved their clasped hands to rest on her stomach and matched his breathing with hers. Slowly, she relaxed, and nodded in agreement.

"I've never known companionship, Mimi," he stated lowly. "I've not known anyone near of being my equal, either. I believe, perhaps, we have that in common. Sure, what you are is what endeared me toward you, but surely you can see and feel that our relationship is real. Power based and built, but I've invested so much of myself into it. I too am worried, that maybe you don't feel the same. That maybe you'll act on your fears and disappear. It'd be harder this time, but you've done it so well so many times before. I know this isn't about me, but I want you to know that you aren't alone in these feelings of," he swallowed, "of-"

"Suffocation," she supplied at a whisper, and he cursed himself, because she was right. And he'd said too much.

"Suffocation," he repeated anyway. Blinking a few times, he cleared his mind of the cloud that had filled it, that always filled it when she allowed her emotions to swarm him so callously. "When I started, I just wanted these stuck up Purebloods to realize that I was worthy of being here, and slowly…they allowed for me to be better than they are. They looked to me for guidance. It was natural for me to thrive under that attention…I'd never gotten it before."

She snuggled closer to him, and Tom found himself accepting it. Oddly, it felt good to share these things with her, and to know that there was no way she'd be able to share anything he admitted. She was truly his now, and there was no way he was going to let her just slip away because she was suddenly feeling too much. He was going to give her everything she wanted and needed, because she was going to be the reason he _won_. He wasn't sure why, but it was a fact he was surer of than anything he'd ever known to be true in his life.

"I never used to hurt them like this. But, everything has changed."

"You can blame me. I understand that my present has altered how _z_ey feel about you."

Tom found himself chuckling. "Presence," he corrected, still finding her mistakes strangely endearing. "You don't have to teach them any more lessons, if that is what bothers you. I thought that you would enjoy it; that you would need a release with everything you've been learning. I feel so connected to you that I forget we're different people."

She cringed at that, and he found that he wasn't sure how to feel. Was it distaste? Did she not want to be connected with him? He could obliviate her, take every moment she'd had since getting here away and send her wherever he wanted…but he was so used to her nearness now. Letting her go would be like killing off another piece of himself, and that wasn't something he wanted. Granger would be opposed to such a thing, especially if she learned that he'd already done it.

He needed something that would make her want to stay. He needed a joint cause for them, and a new game plan for himself. Honestly, he didn't care about blood purity. It was something his followers cared deeply for, something that helped to keep them in line. What he wanted was power, which is why he allowed them to feel as though he shared such a belief. His Knights had parents in power, all of whom had parents that held similar or the same positions during their own prime, which is why he believed his followers would amount to the same fates. Fortunately, the current Ministry didn't allow hierarchies in the Minister's branch, which is the only reason he'd built himself into the educated, well liked wizard he was today. He wanted that position, and he needed her to do that.

No minister thus far had been without family. He'd decided that he'd be the first before she stepped into the dungeons, but it was after he realized her own drive and passion for success –toward whatever it was she was trying to accomplish- that he understood all he needed was her. There was enough proof of such in the fact that since connecting with the witch his popularity had not only reached into the den of Gryffindor, but also solidified him as someone truly a part of the Wizarding world.

"I don't even feel like I know you," she whispered, as though she didn't really want to admit it. She most likely didn't want to, because she'd been saying it for weeks. It was half the truth. She knew more about him than he cared to admit, but he understood what she meant. Nothing of his past had ever been mentioned, and he didn't plan on starting now.

"I swore I wouldn't let you go, Mimi. We can work this out. We have to."

"We shouldn't have done that," her voice cracked, and he drank in her fear and worry. "It was reckless, and dangerous."

"It can't be undone," he whispered, waiting for her to just accept it. It'd taken him another session with Abbott after she'd fallen asleep last night, but he'd done so.

"I'm dealing with it," she bit out, and he sensed she was going to cry.

"Would you like more commitment?" He asked, rubbing his nose against her ear and hair. She still smelt like lavender, which caused him to inhale deeply every now and then, accepting her unknown reassurance.

"No," she breathed, and he hated to admit it, but he was disappointed. "No more magic. Let's just be normal."

He smirked, "You're the last Montague, I'm the heir of Slytherin. There is nothing normal here, my sweet little witch. But, if you'd like, we could head out to Hogsmeade for a bite of lunch tomorrow, like Abraxas and Eileen like to do. We could even invite them. I believe the term is _double date_."

She laughed, very lightly, and he began to feel as though they would be all right until he figured out a proper way to keep her calm and busy. "Too cold. Let's just lay here all day."

"I knew the French were lazy," he teased, poking her a bit. With the crisis patched up, he considered his options. She didn't like harming people who'd done nothing to her, which was understandable; witches tended to be softer hearted, and although she'd been wonderfully beautiful as she tortured his wizards, he didn't want her to associate him with Grindelwald. It was a low blow if there ever was one. If anything, he was better, smarter, and far more handsome.

He knew, of course, that she wasn't completely opposed to Dark Magic. She studied both Dark and Black openly with him, often discussing theories and ideas, highlighting weakness and showing where someone pure at heart would be better suited to complete tasks. The way she twisted darker ideas and made them seem innocent and harmless was just as beautiful as the way she took stabs at Light magic and mangled it's intent. If there were a way to create experiments, to lace her into more physical, but less harmful plans, he would have her in his grasp forever. She wouldn't be able to turn against or leave him because she'd of taken part the invention of many a Dark idea and curse.

Glancing at her bookshelf, he hummed in thought; _If only._

"I want to be the British Minister of Magic."

She turned in his arms and looked at him, smiling prettily. Surprisingly, she kissed his chin lightly, lifting their joined hands and rubbing his knuckles on her face. "Quite a nice one you'd make. Don't like someone's policy? Take _z_em into your back room."

He chuckled, leaned down, and kissed her mouth. "It's rather disheartening to know you won't be waiting there to help out."

She turned away from him then, resuming her original position. "I want to be a teacher."

He hummed in thought, deciding he liked the idea of her being a professor at Hogwarts. The Ministry and the school were the two highest ranked places in in the British Wizarding world. _To have a hold on them_, he smirked and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Transfiguration?

"Unfortunately, I don't share that passion with my Oncle."

He sensed coldness in her voice, and decided that whatever they'd discussed hadn't gone well. He wondered, idly, if he'd tried to sway her away from him. Instead of mentioning it, he teased, "Oh, Merlin, ma cherie. Please don't say Muggle Art," causing her to laugh happily. The vibrations melted into him, causing him to chuckle as well.

"And if I do! I'm quite the artist, dear Tom."

He tightened is hold on her, rubbing his cheek into her hair. "I don't doubt that. It doesn't matter, really. I wanted to be the Potion's professor."

She stilled in his arms, and he wondered what it meant. "Not anymore?"

"I want to be something you could be proud of."

Granger began to giggle, and he remained calm after realizing it wasn't malicious. "I think it'd be cute if you taught Potions, and I taught Charms. We could have breakfast together, and have the same off period. Walks around _z_e Black Lake everyday."

"Nothing would change then."

"I would hope you wouldn't wrangle lost little boys into the Room of Requirement anymore," she tilted her head up and smiled at him. "I'd be proud of you regardless of any career path you choose."

"Ruthless dictator?" He questioned, genuinely curious.

She unlaced one of their hands and lifted a hand to shake in the air. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Well, in one circumstance I would have to be okay with it. In another, I could just walk away," she shrugged.

He laughed, "I see. I think you in Hogwarts and myself in the Ministry would meet your earlier standards, would it not? You would have what you want; I would have what I want. I would be the stand-up wizard you require, and you'd be mine."

"You'd be okay with _z_at? With _z_is being it?"

"You're not the only one that wants to please someone, Mimi. I care for your happiness."

She fell silent, and Tom assumed she'd fallen asleep after long. Pulling her a little closer, he reminded himself to not let this happen again. He would never need to reassure her in such a desperate moment. Instead, he would determine her needs before she required a thing. That's what he was supposed to do, anyway: take care of his own.

"Mine, mine, mine," he whispered, magically turning the lights off.

Tom pressed his mouth to her ear and neck before leaning his head back on her headboard.

"Yours, yours, yours," Mimi sighed when he'd been on the brink of sleep.

In the darkness of the room, he smiled widely. She was a corporeal manifestation of everything he'd ever wanted in life, and her warm body pressed securely against his own, seeking out comfort and acceptance, felt so sweet that he had to resist leaning forward and sinking his teeth into her. Instead, he tightened his arms instinctively as he dozed off. There was really no better feeling in the world.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Super short today. Hopefully everyone's year is going well so far.** Big** thank you to my reviewers this time around, I'm so happy you all are enjoying and thinking more about what on earth is going on.  
I'm just a little worried about how few I revceived for the last chapter (especially considering I liked it so much), but the rise in favorites/followers was reassuring.

Anyway, hopefully everyone enjoyed this update (: It was a little filler and a lot reflective on Tom's behalf, but it feels like change to me. Cheers until next time!


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